


I'm Hot Sticky Sweet From My Head to My Feet

by BlossomsintheMist



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Afterglow, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Background Relationships, Bottom Tony, Bottom Tony Stark, Crossdressing Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings, Feminization, Flirting, Foreplay, High Heels, Kissing, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Minor Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Oral Sex, Panty Kink, Pet Names, Porn with Feelings, Post-Coital Cuddling, Power Bottom Tony Stark, Praise Kink, Size Difference, Size Kink, Stockings, Teasing, Top Steve, Top Steve Rogers, power bottom tony, self-consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:09:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7188278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a costume party for the Avengers, and Steve and Tony are dared to wear the Ironette Outfit and the old USO girl outfit, respectively.  They're both rather taken by the sight of their boyfriend in "their" themed outfit.  So afterwards, they take it upstairs and enjoy each other.  Established relationship crossdressing and outfit kink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Hot Sticky Sweet From My Head to My Feet

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by several gorgeous gorgeous pieces of art by [kelslk](http://kelslk.tumblr.com/). Namely, [this one](http://kelslk-art.tumblr.com/post/132056667924/honestly-this-is-pensversusswords-fault), [this one](http://k-atnight.tumblr.com/post/132621241449/ok-last-one-i-swear), and [these](http://k-atnight.tumblr.com/post/132578698009/the-obvious-eventuality-of-this). Thank you so so much for letting me write this inspired by your work, and thank you to my betas Chrism/[cyborgcap](http://cyborgcap.tumblr.com) and KaeKae/[doctoranthonystark](http://doctoranthonystark.tumblr.com) for all your help and encouragement on this fic! Also, read [pensversusswords](http://pensversusswords.tumblr.com)’s [fic about them](http://pensversusswords.tumblr.com/post/132059772351/kelslk-art-honestly-this-is-pensversusswords)! (I admit I used the costume party concept too, just because it seemed like the easiest way to get them here and move them along.) 
> 
> On a further note, Steve and Tony kind of trade off on the power dynamics in this fic. Tony physically bottoms, but who's "driving," so to speak, shifts back and forth.

Steve’s hands curled around Tony’s waist, big and warm, almost hot even through the extra fabric that made up the waistband of the skirt, and not many things made Tony feel small, but the way Steve’s hands felt around his waist, both thumbs against the front of the waistband and fingers still curling in against the dip of his spine, made him feel practically tiny. The short skirt and tight waist of the showgirl outfit had already made his waist look slimmer than he really appreciated when he’d checked himself out in the mirror—he was more muscular than that, wasn’t he?—and Steve’s hands were just so damn big, spanning him almost entirely. It was—it felt a little weird. Good weird, but . . . well, weird. It made him feel a little dizzy.

 

But despite all that, all of that, the dizzy heat in his head and the way Steve’s hands felt against him, it was hard to tear his eyes away from how _Steve_ looked.

 

Sure, if he’d thought about it, he probably would have said that Steve’s pecs would look great in the Ironette outfit, but he’d never really contemplated it, to be honest, and now he was staring right at it, and the tight little top practically gave Steve _cleavage_. And that was on top of the literally breathtaking expanse of his chest and abdomen that was left _completely bare_ , all flushed smooth skin and gorgeous muscles that Tony just wanted to taste against the flat of his tongue suddenly even more than he ever had before. And the way the gloves and shoulders of the top made Steve’s arm muscles stand out like they’d been made particularly to frame them, and they—they were already something on a normal day. But this—just— And then there was the way the tiny little shorts (God, they were so tiny, how had he never really noticed that before?) didn’t cover the lines of Steve’s hipbones or the dips of his hips, just throwing them into higher relief, and the way his thighs stood out, flushed and pink and huge and muscular and not covered at _all_ except where they just about met his crotch. Which was always pretty damn impressive, but right now the gold and red silky shine of the fabric outlined what was rapidly becoming an almost imposing erection, even as Steve’s flush deepened from his cheeks all the way down his chest. Tony felt like his brain was overloading from the vast amount of gorgeous in front of him, shorting out and leaving him gasping and stammering and unable to figure out where he even wanted to touch Steve first. _Everywhere._

 

“Wow,” he said, finally reaching up to curl his hands around Steve’s bare biceps and squeeze, then skimming them up to his neck and down the smooth skin the skimpy bikini top neckline left bare. It felt oddly far away with the gloves covering his fingers, a barrier between his hands and that smooth skin, the warmth of Steve’s body, that he wasn’t used to. “You look so incredible in that. Honey. Just . . . wow.” He sounded like an idiot, Tony thought, annoyed, but he couldn’t seem to manage anything more coherent when his brain was still offline. Seeing Steve in this getup at all had been enough, but seeing him _close up_ like this, and while he was _touching Tony at the same time_ . . . honestly Tony was impressed he could figure out how to say anything at all, when he thought about it that way.

 

Steve’s flush deepened even further, and he licked his lips. When he spoke, his voice came out low and rough, husky. “You think so?” he asked.

 

“God,” Tony breathed as his hands skimmed down, cupping Steve’s pecs, barely restrained by the shiny fabric, as if they were breasts, feeling the tight strain of the fabric over his skin, the way Steve’s chest was heaving beneath his hands, the weight and heft of that heaving muscle against his palms. “Hell, yes, I do. Wow, I just—how did I never think about how good you’d look in this?”

 

Steve grinned a little, turning even pinker. “Well, you’re not bad yourself,” he said, squeezing his hands around Tony’s waist, then skimming down and dipping beneath the skirt to slide up the outside of his thighs, and wow. _Wow_. That felt like . . . well, like something else through the stockings Tony was wearing, silky and smooth and the way Steve’s rough hands caught on the fabric as he slid them up—Tony shivered, before Steve’s smile turned a little softer, but smug at the same time, and he said, “How’d I never notice you’ve practically got curves?” He smiled a little more. “Baby doll.”

 

Okay, that was just—that was just unfair. Tony groaned, feeling a little extra warm in the face and, well, a lot of other places, from that, in his chest to way down south. “Jesus, Steve,” he managed.

 

Steve grinned. “You look so pretty, Tony,” he said, leaned forward and left a kiss just above the line of Tony’s beard, against his chin, as Tony tilted his head back helplessly at just the combination of Steve’s lips soft against his skin and the warm hands on his thighs and the sturdy heat of Steve’s body right there under his hands. “You’re beautiful all the time, but this is something else,” he breathed, “are you wearing something on your lips?” And then his tongue was flicking over Tony’s mouth, which fell open on a choking moan, and Steve was pressing his tongue inside, mouth hot but soft against his. Tony’s mouth fell open even further for him, helplessly eager, giving way as Steve quested inward, moaning and pressing into it as Steve’s hot tongue curled inside of his mouth, swept across the roof of his mouth and along his tongue. Tony arched up against him, breathless and eager for the kiss, and felt a wave of tingling heat wash through him as the fabric of his skirt rubbed up against the bare skin of Steve’s abs, against his hips and the fabric of Steve’s own outfit. When they pulled away Tony was panting and lightheaded, and he had a feeling the cap he was wearing had slid down unevenly—he felt very hot, and it was hard to think.

 

At least Steve looked equally breathless, cheeks flushed pink and eyes heavy, his lips stained with the glossy color that had come off of Tony’s. “Yeah,” Tony managed, voice heavy and full of breath. “It’s a lip stain, gloss with a little bit of color? Yeah.”

 

Steve licked his own bottom lip, as if to taste it, and Tony groaned again, feeling his mind stuttering and overloaded, and then Steve’s hands came up, framed his face, thumbs rubbing along his beard, a warm, soft scratch through the hair that made Tony feel very hot in the face and soft and liquid everywhere else. “Is that so,” he murmured, breath warm and feathering soft against Tony’s face, voice husky.

 

“Yeah,” Tony breathed back, unable to think of anything else to say with Steve’s eyes big and blue in front of him like that, eyelashes unfairly long as they flicked down, and color high and warm on his cheeks, the way Steve’s hands were cradling his face, the fingerless gloves he was wearing silky and unfamiliar against Tony’s jaw.

 

“You’re wearing makeup on your eyes, too,” Steve said, hoarse and soft, rough. His lips were all pink, from kissing Tony, swollen and puffy. “I like it. Makes you look all . . . dramatic. And, and sultry.”

 

Tony felt himself smiling at that. He was glad, actually, that the eyeshadow and mascara had turned out; he’d hoped, but he hadn’t been sure Steve would like how it looked on him. He slid his gloved hands up, linked them around the back of Steve’s neck, and leaned into him, putting his weight against Steve’s chest (firm, sturdy, God, he could feel how the bikini top bit into Steve’s pecs, the way his own lapels rubbed over the silky fabric and Steve’s skin, how Steve filled it out, and damn, he filled it out), grinning up at him as he looked up at Steve through his eyelashes. “You like that, big guy?” he purred.

 

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, and the tiny bit of voice in the word rumbled in his chest it was so low, even as his cheeks flushed darker. “God—God, Tony.” He leaned down and settled his mouth onto Tony’s again, even as Tony’s lips parted to invite him in and his thumbs rubbed along the curve of Tony’s jaw. This kiss was shorter, but just as intense, and left Tony gasping and breathless, feeling hot all over. Steve pulled away gasping for breath himself and smiling, and the sight of that smile on his face made Tony’s chest feel warm and seize up somehow, nothing to do with the arc reactor at all. “You’re something else,” Steve said, and skimmed one hand back, into Tony’s hair, into the now rather tousled jumble it was becoming. He smiled a little, his voice still all breathless. “Can’t believe a knockout like you is giving me the time of day. All dolled up like this, a pretty thing like you would break any fella’s heart.”

 

Tony grinned, knew his face was hot, the heat racing through him, hot and warm and freeing the way he did when he was in the middle of a new calculation, or when he was flying. It was a strange thing, because he thought from anyone else that kind of thing, that kind of talk, might have bothered him a little, but it was the same way he’d been more than willing to show off in this old school USO showgirl outfit for Steve in the first place. Steve was different. He just was. “That’s what you say, tiger,” he said, “but from where I’m standing I’m the one who lucked out.”

 

“Yeah?” Steve breathed, blushing visibly, down beneath the bikini top now and over his abs.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Tony told him, skimming his hands down again, this time all the way down Steve’s chest, tracing his fingers over the muscles bared so enticingly by the skimpy outfit. Steve’s chest was heaving even more now, which kind of just showed him off even more, especially the way it made the flushed muscles of his pecs stand out. “You look absolutely gorgeous.” He dragged his hands back up, settled them over Steve’s pecs again and squeezed. “My little princess,” he said, with a teasing grin, and winked. “You going to dance for me?”

 

Steve was blushing even more furiously now, but he didn’t move to back away, despite the heavy flush, so Tony figured it was all right, even as he moved his fabric-covered finger along the line of the top, along Steve’s heaving chest. Steve bit his lip, looked down, and his hand fell to Tony’s shoulder and squeezed, but then he was saying, “I don’t think I know that kind of dance, baby doll,” raising his chin, his eyes sparkling despite his bright red blush.

 

Tony let his voice drop down to a purr. “I’m sure you could figure it out,” he said, low, leaning in to brush his fingers along the glorious line of Steve’s jaw. His hands felt sweaty under the gloves.

 

“I’m pretty sure there’s another kind of dancing I’d like to do with you,” Steve said, smile now. “If you’d let me.” His other hand up, slid around Tony’s waist.

 

“Well, I don’t know,” Tony said, grinning himself, “if _I’m_ that kind of girl, tiger.”

 

Steve’s smile widened into a grin. He leaned forward, slid his hand up through Tony’s hair, warm and heavy in a way that made Tony sigh and a shiver of pleasure run through him, before he pulled the hat off his hair entirely and brushed a kiss over Tony’s ear, breathing his next words against the shell of it. “But aren’t you my girl?” he murmured.

 

“Mmm,” Tony said, breathless. He could feel how widely he was smiling himself now, big and soft and a little loopy. “I might be, now you mention it.”

 

“We’re going steady and everything,” Steve murmured, even as his fingers dragged through Tony’s hair, tousling it even more, and then he brushed a kiss against Tony’s cheekbone as he traced his fingers down over Tony’s collarbone, the hat still tucked in against his palm. Tony sucked in his breath as Steve’s fingers brushed over the scars around the arc reactor, tracing around it, just the space between the lapels of the dress. It didn’t feel like much, but it sent a frisson of trembling heat through him all the same, just the knowledge that Steve was touching him there, intense and almost overwhelming. Steve’s lips dropped down, warm and lingering, lips parted and soft along Tony’s neck, and Tony tilted his head back, slid his fingers, still feeling oddly detached in the long gloves, into Steve’s hair, feeling it feathering out between them over the fabric as his head fell back. He’d been a little self-conscious about how this outfit showed off the arc reactor, framing it with the neckline of the dress, but he figured that was all the more reason to put it out there. Like he didn't care, even if he did. It felt so—so different, strange and electric, to have Steve touching him there, like this, even though Steve had touched it, had touched him just like that, just like this, a hundred times. It still felt different, even though having it in plain sight like that even while he was still dressed—well, it shouldn’t, didn’t make sense.

 

“So, can I?” Steve murmured. He slid his hand down, between Tony’s legs, traced gently over his thigh, fingers playing along the silky fabric stretched over Tony’s legs, along the side of his knee, just like he really was asking, unsure if Tony would really let him touch up under his skirt. Like Tony might actually tell him no. Ever. Tony could feel Steve’s smile against his neck, against the skin just under his ear. “I promise I’ll go slow,” he said, hushed and gentle, lips soft as he dragged them up along Tony’s neck. “Nothing you don’t want to do, sweetheart.”

 

Tony swallowed, feeling his lashes fluttering despite himself. He felt a sudden, strange, moment of worry that his mascara would smudge if he wasn’t careful. He felt oddly warm and still rather detached from himself, the stockings cool over his legs, a strange counterpoint to Steve’s warm touch, the warmer lips at his throat, and it felt oddly natural to laugh and murmur, “But I wouldn’t want you to think I—I was easy, handsome.” He could feel that he was getting hard, under the skirt, the way the high-waisted, lace-edged panties he was wearing tightened around him as his dick strained up against them, and bit his bottom lip, tasting the cool smear of his gloss. “I wouldn’t want to seem.” God, what would they have said back in the day, it didn’t matter if it was over the top, if it would make Steve laugh— “Err, fast.”

 

Steve laughed, and there was delight in his tone. “Oh, gosh, Tony,” he said, curling his face in against his neck so that his forehead rested against Tony’s cheek, laughing and laughing, and Tony grinned, pleased.

 

After another moment, when Steve seemed to have his breath back, he skimmed his fingers up just a little more along Tony’s leg. “You?” he said, tilting his head up, mouth gentle against the base of Tony’s ear. “Tony, easy? Really? After how hard to get you played?”

 

Tony was laughing now. “I didn’t realize you wanted me,” he said, gasping as Steve brushed his fingers along the back of his thigh, just above his knee, “that’s not—not playing hard to get. I didn’t mean to.” The truth was, he was pretty easy for Steve. He doubted he had the willpower to resist Steve when he wanted him.

 

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Steve said. “I was starting to think I’d have to, I don’t know, put it up in flashing lights that I wanted to take you out to dinner because I was _sweet_ on you, not just because I was hungry and you were around.”

 

“Okay,” Tony said, chuckling. “Okay, I get it. For a genius, I can be a real idiot.”

 

“You said it,” Steve said, cupping Tony’s thigh warmly in his hand, “not me.” He grinned and laid a kiss on Tony’s cheek again, lips soft and warm against the skin.

 

Tony could feel his face flushing, but not in a bad way, and he couldn’t help laughing. It was a little funny, the big bad playboy, completely clueless that he was being seduced. But he felt like he’d gotten on top of things now, what Steve expected, and wanted, and—yeah, he was doing good at this. He was pretty sure. And hey, he’d been right about this, the getup, all of it—Steve was liking it, he was sure of that, even without the erection tenting Steve’s little tiny shorts as proof. “What about you, though, huh?” he asked, combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, tilting his head back up to look him in the eye. “Coming here dressed like this, just for me.”

 

Steve blushed, and ducked his head a little, but he smiled, too. “Yeah,” he said. “You got it. Just for you.” His voice was low, husky and a little rough, and hell if that didn’t go straight to something in Tony’s chest, something tight and warm. Steve was blushing so hot now, all over, even into his thighs. He always blushed so much, all over his whole body, and it was the sweetest damn thing Tony had ever seen.

 

Steve let Tony push him back a bit, run his hands down his neck, over his chest, shivering just a little as Tony touched him. Steve’s skin was pretty damn sensitive to the touch, always, but especially when he was turned on, and Tony could see pretty clearly that he was, what with the full body flush, the way his perked nipples showed clearly through the thin silky fabric of the top, and the way the fabric clung to the growing hardness between his legs. Tony rubbed his own gloved thumbs down over the hard muscle of Steve’s abs and the other man shuddered visibly.

 

“You look incredible, honey,” Tony found himself saying again, fervent and amazed. “You know how that shows you off?”

 

Steve blushed even a little deeper. “It sure doesn’t cover much,” he said, with a little breathless laugh. “It feels like I’m the next thing to naked. Pretty sure my underwear usually covers more.” Tony traced his fingers down over Steve’s hipbones, and Steve shifted, blew his breath out, almost brought his hand up to brush it along his own hard length where it strained the tiny little shorts, then let it drop, chest heaving.

 

“That _was_ kind of the idea,” Tony admitted, suddenly feeling a little sheepish about the design, though he’d just told one of the Expo people to work on it, not designed it himself. “You know, flashy.”

 

“Well, it sure is that,” Steve muttered, sounding a little rueful and his cheeks bright red, but his eyes were still warm and alive with amusement. “I feel flashy.” He tilted his head to one side, smiled a little, licked his full bottom lip, drawing Tony’s eyes there irresistibly. “You don’t think _I’m_ easy, do you?” he murmured, husky and low, “coming here all dolled up for you.” He flicked his hands at his body, somehow encompassing everything from his heaving pecs to bitten lips to his flushed thighs and very present erection. “It’s not . . . too much?”

 

“Jesus, Steve,” Tony breathed, feeling heat flood through him through those words, his own arousal suddenly hitting him like a brick to the gut. Steve grinned, and Tony heard himself chuckle breathily, still carried away on how hot and immediate the arousal suddenly pounding in his chest felt. “Uh, no, no, I think it’s . . . just right, dollface,” he managed, hands still framing Steve’s hips. He squeezed a little, felt his fingers press in warmly, strange through the gloves. “You can be a little daring, right? It’s just for me, after all.”

 

Steve’s face softened a bit at that, his smile going soft and gentle, sweet and a little shy. “Yeah,” he murmured, all husky, his thumb rubbing almost shyly along Tony’s waist, not pulling him in. “Yeah, just for you.” Tony thumbed at Steve’s hipbones, tracing the dip of them, and Steve shuddered all over, his cock jerking in its tight, silky confines, hardening still further. Steve made a low noise, almost a groan. Tony honestly wondered how much longer the little shorts would keep Steve’s erection contained—he was so damn big, and Tony could see how stretched thin the fabric already was around his dick, molding to every inch of it. He swallowed through a mouth that suddenly felt dry with want and brushed his thumbs down over the front of the shorts, over Steve’s thighs, where the fabric just covered the very tops of them and not much else, framing the straining hardness of Steve’s dick but not touching. Steve groaned, again, another low, almost desperate noise, and his hips stuttered forward against Tony’s hands, dick twitching visibly, obviously, in his little shorts.

 

“Yeah,” Tony breathed in response. “You’re my big, gorgeous guy, right?” He slid his hands along Steve’s hips, back around and down over his ass, pulling him forward again, tilting his chin up and nosing along the side of Steve’s jaw. Steve gasped in response, swayed forward, slid the hand on Tony’s back up and leaned in. It felt strange and new and sent a frisson of pleasurable sensation up Tony’s spine as he pulled Steve in and felt the hard, solid warmth of him pressing up against the skirt, trapping it around Tony’s legs, over the stockings. Steve groaned again as his arousal settled hard against Tony’s hip, and Tony leaned up just enough to press their lips together, licking into Steve’s mouth and swallowing the low noise. Steve moaned again as Tony slid his tongue into his mouth, teased it against Steve’s, tilting his head into it. One hand came up to settle at the back of Tony’s neck, fingers slipping into his hair, and Steve leaned into it, lips parting eagerly for the kiss.

 

Steve always kissed like he _meant_ it, and the sweet giving eagerness in his mouth against Tony’s just then made something in Tony’s chest feel even warmer, felt irresistible as he pressed into Steve’s mouth and Steve responded with such enthusiastic warmth, his hand sliding up further into Tony’s hair and twisting lightly into the already pretty damn tousled strands. Tony leaned in even more, exploring Steve’s mouth, wet and warm, teasing out responses from Steve with his tongue, his lips, even the light application of his teeth, sliding his hands lightly up Steve’s back, over his bare skin, and feeling him shiver as the cloth of the gloves grazed along his skin with the soft touches. Steve’s mouth opened on his, soft and wet and panting, and he groaned against Tony’s mouth, leaning into Tony even further, his other hand bunching up around the collar of the dress. Tony bit back a moan of his own and kissed back, hot and heady, turning his nails just a bit into the touches to Steve’s back as much as he could, short as they were and through the gloves, to give the touch that extra edge, kissing Steve the best he could, with all the little tricks and extra touches he could think up to throw into it with how dizzy he felt from the warm, melting heat spreading through him from the kiss, like it was making his whole body liquid, his mind hot and slow. Steve gasped, panted against his mouth, his breath hitching, and Tony slid his hands up over his shoulders and pulled him down into it, pressing himself up into Steve at the same time.

 

It was incredible, how intense it felt. Tony was used to kissing Steve, being with Steve, feeling like everything at once, feeling like flying and sinking and being alight with it, on fire, at the same time, almost overwhelming, but somehow how they were dressed was making everything feel even more heightened, more intense, until his head was swimming with it. With the way Steve felt hot all over against him, under his hands, the way he was gasping into Tony’s mouth, he thought he might be feeling the same way. He could feel himself getting hot in the face as Steve pulled him even closer, and Tony found himself rocking up onto his toes in the heels he was already balancing in precariously, pushing his mouth ever closer against Steve’s hot and wet as saliva smeared between their lips. Steve was making soft, gaspy, needy noises, both high-pitched and low and rumbly as he leaned into the kiss, fingers grasping tightly at Tony’s hair, his neck, the collar of the dress, and Tony thrilled to hear them, stored up each sweet, breathless, eager noise somewhere in the back of his mind. He got his hands up around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him even closer down into the kiss, panting into his mouth himself now, feeling his own eyes slide closed.

 

“Yes,” Steve mumbled, breath hot against Tony’s lips, wet mouth panting against Tony’s. “Yes, Tony, yours. All yours.” His hands skimmed down Tony’s back, silky gloves making Tony shiver, now, as they slid over his skin where the dress left it bare. He suddenly felt very aware of how much of his back it left uncovered, and he swallowed, moaned against Steve’s lips as Steve’s hands stroked over his skin, cupped his bare shoulder blades and curled flat over the muscles at his back, gripping him firmly but not tightly, never digging in, and swayed up into the kiss. His face felt hot, his cheeks, his ears, his heart thudding through him, fast and unsteady in his chest, against the arc reactor. He opened his mouth for Steve, like he could drink in those words, keep them close inside his body for forever, because Steve wasn’t his, he wasn’t, but he was saying he was. Saying it like he meant it. Even though it wasn’t true, and Tony felt like he could run off just that and coffee forever. Tony slid his hands up into Steve’s hair, cupped one palm against the back of his neck and held on. He felt dizzy, and his hands felt warm and even sweatier inside the gloves now.

 

“Steve,” he murmured, and it came out all hot and husky, hushed. Steve made a moaning noise of his own and sucked on Tony’s bottom lip, soft and wet and needy somehow, his big hands palming across Tony’s back, bunching up into fists at the fabric at his waist and pulling him even closer.

 

His mouth slipped wetly from Tony’s, skipping and sliding down over the side of it, along his cheek, and he groaned, “Tony,” voice low and rough, “Tony,” before his lips were hot on Tony’s again, mouth slick and wet, and Tony thought, briefly, the hell with it, Steve could hold him up, as he wobbled in the heels and leaned forward to wrap one leg in his stockings around Steve’s bare thigh. Sure enough, Steve’s hand immediately slid down his back to steady him, strong at the small of his back, even as Steve panted wet and unsteady into Tony’s mouth. “God, Tony,” Steve practically moaned against Tony’s lips, mouth slipping on his again, and his other hand came up to stroke along the outside of Tony’s leg, slipping over his knee and up his thigh, the backs of his fingers soft against the silky fabric of the stocking. It felt shockingly vivid and intense, and Tony let out an unsteady breath at the sensation against Steve’s mouth. “That feels . . .” Steve was breathing unsteadily, too. “That feels so . . .”

 

“Not—” Tony had to make an effort to find the words, drag his mind back into some kind of order, and was practically panting the words against Steve’s lips. “Not used to seeing me in pantyhose, gorgeousness?” he managed unsteadily.

 

Steve gave a rough little huff of a laugh. “No,” he said, blunt and warm, and then smiled, all soft and sincere and loose with it, a little dizzy. “Or, uh, feeling, I guess. They, uh, they really work on you, though.” He smiled a little more, running the backs of his fingers up and down Tony’s leg, around his knee, like he was just—feeling.

 

Tony’s mouth felt a little dry, the sensations sweeping through him so intense, just from that little touch, and he found himself swallowing convulsively, leaning up into his grip on Steve’s shoulders, his hair. The position left him at a great angle to press kisses along Steve’s jaw, over his cheek, so he did, feeling his lips slide wet over Steve’s skin. They left a little color behind, and that was a strange, heady thrill he hadn’t really expected. When Steve slid his hand up slow, softly, almost, over the muscle of Tony’s thigh, making him shiver and shake at the vividness of the sensation, turned his head and found his lips with Tony’s again, wet and breathless, Tony felt himself melting into the kiss, sinking into it, his hands tangling in Steve’s hair, gripping tightly at his back, as he opened his mouth and poured himself into the kiss. He lost track of time there, for a second. He could feel where Steve’s hardness was pressing into him, against his hip, how his own need was throbbing behind his tight panties, the skirt shifting over it a strange, subtle whispering tease against the hot solidity of Steve’s body. He felt hot all over, but prickling with awareness of where his back was bare, his arms, how short the skirt was, how Steve’s own bare skin felt against him, and Steve was warm and naked almost all over.

 

Tony only realized how precarious his position was, balancing on one foot in the slippery stocking and tipped up on his toes so much his heel was barely still on his foot, when he started to wobble a little. He barely had time for a moment of alarm and a soft curse bitten into Steve’s mouth, gripping tightly to his neck and shoulders, before Steve had slid his hand smoothly under his other thigh and lifted him up easily and entirely. He pulled him forward, and Tony’s body slotted in against his, so they were pressed together from hip to chest, Tony’s trapped erection suddenly pressed so intimately and hotly against Steve’s bare stomach through his skirt and panties that he moaned, gasped into Steve’s shoulder. The way his legs felt, splayed out wide under the skirt to fit around Steve’s waist, was something he was suddenly very aware of. “I gotcha,” Steve murmured into his ear. “Not too certain of those heels, huh, doll?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony admitted, and felt his face heat a moment before he started to laugh, ruefully. He braced his forearms on Steve’s shoulders just so he’d have enough leverage to push back from him, though the loss of his pressure and warmth made him groan, and found himself chuckling a little more as the shoe slipped off his foot entirely and fell to the floor. “I’m, uh, not really used to wearing ‘em.” He’d sure liked the height they’d given him, he admitted to himself. He liked being able to look Steve in the eye. But the heels had been damn hard to manage.

 

“Well, you look fantastic in ‘em,” Steve said, “and you moved like a pro, I never would’ve known.”

 

“Oh, sure,” Tony drawled. “Right. I totally believe that, tiger.”

 

Steve blushed a little more, but he was smiling, too. “Promise,” he said, and shifted his arms around Tony a little more. Tony didn’t realize what he was doing until he was being pushed flush against Steve again and Steve had his arm all the way around him and under his ass, and was holding him with just that arm as he reached down to loosen Tony’s other shoe. And that was—that was just unfair. Tony wasn’t really totally onboard with the heat that sent shivering through him, pooling in his belly and sparking along every nerve ending he had, but he didn’t seem to have much choice in the matter, his body and something in his hindbrain thought that was _hot_ , damn it, how damn strong Steve was, and he was left gasping against Steve’s shoulder again, trapped cock throbbing and his whole body a needy, sensitive mess of hyper-aware nerve endings, as if Steve’s strength had just swept him along into that and there was nothing he could do to resist. He groaned, almost fucking _whimpered_ , and was half embarrassed of it as Steve tossed the shoe away and ran his hand up along the base of Tony’s foot, then closed his palm, still silky and strange in the gloves, around his ankle.

 

It was a weird, weird strange-but-good feeling, made Tony feel almost like he was small, and delicate, with Steve’s big warm hand curved around his ankle, the silky fabric of his glove skimming along the pantyhose, and Tony’s knees stretched out wide, the way Steve was holding him up so easily with _one arm_ like Tony hardly weighed anything at all, even though he knew that wasn’t true. He got one arm up, around and over Steve’s neck, and hung on, panting into the side of his neck, his jaw, as Steve rubbed his thumb along his ankle, making Tony’s toes flex and curl in response as Steve slid it under the knob of bone, around the sensitive back of his foot, then skimmed his hand up along his calf. It made him shiver, and he felt very aware of his skin, from his fingers over his back where the dress left it bare, down to his toes, every shift of the skirt fluttering around his thighs intense enough to make him twitch and shudder. He could hear how loudly he was gasping in his own ears and knew his face was hot with it.

 

When he’d first decided to do this, Tony hadn’t thought he’d enjoy it that much. For himself. He’d show the others he wasn’t afraid, or ashamed to do it, yeah, and he thought Steve might like it, might get a kick out of it—might, yeah, okay, be turned on by it. Or he’d hoped. And, well, he sure couldn’t complain about the results there, that was for sure. He’d seen the way Steve swallowed when he’d walked in the room, the way his eyes had gone dark.

 

But—it was more than that, too. From the beginning, the shaving his legs, putting on the foundation, the eyeliner, the mascara, the lip stain, the panties and stockings—it was like it had made him so much more aware of everything, his own body, what he looked like in the mirror, wide eyes dark and startled at himself, even his weight when he tried to walk in the heels, his balance. He’d wanted to look good, no damn reason to do this halfway, but the truth was, he thought he’d feel like an idiot. Especially when everyone got a look at him. But, he—he didn’t. He felt good, and like he looked good, not ridiculous, and the way Steve was responding, reacting, the heavy heat of Steve’s rigid dick against his own groin, made him feel hot, desirable, on top of it. It probably should have felt, should have _been_ , more humiliating—he knew what Howard would have thought about it, that was for sure—but somehow knowing that just made him enjoy it even more. He knew he looked good, he was working this, he could own it, somehow, from the mascara on his lashes to the pretty, girly old-fashioned pair of panties he’d chosen to the short little skirt that barely covered his ass, and Steve was reacting like he wanted to eat him for breakfast, wide-eyed and overwhelmed in a way Tony had barely even dreamed of. And hell, Steve looked fantastic in Tony’s stupid little Ironette outfit; why shouldn't Tony look just as good?

 

Though he was grateful he was a little more covered up in this. He didn’t have abs anywhere near as gorgeous and perfect as Steve’s, and he knew it all too well.

 

He felt, well, hot, and a little bit—well, you know, fragile, or delicate, or pretty, or whatever. There was a part of him that was absolutely horrified at the idea that he was getting off on getting dolled up, feeling fragile and—and feminine next to Steve, the way Steve’s hand, hot through the glove, even, felt curled around his ankle, the way he was holding him, the feel of the stockings on his legs, but another part of him gloried in it. Why shouldn’t he? He knew he was strong, compact, muscular, he knew how much he worked out, why should feeling small next to Steve, a literal super soldier, and liking how his legs felt in a skirt, suddenly suck those muscles, the strength he’d worked for, out of him or something? Steve looked great in _his_ tiny little outfit, and not an inch less masculine for all his heaving chest and bright red blush.

 

Besides, no matter how much he worked out, Natasha would still be able to beat him up outside the armor, and she was dressed as Marie Antoinette downstairs, or she was unless she and Bucky had had the same idea he and Steve had and the clothes had already gone by the wayside. So, uh, there, you know?

 

Tony gasped into Steve’s shoulder as he slid his hand up further over Tony’s calf, warm and teasing as the glove slid over the stocking and the sensitive flesh beneath it, and then Steve was shifting him again, gasping himself as their cocks brushed together through the fabric of Tony’s skirt and Steve’s tiny little shorts, before he set him down on his feet. “You steady, Shellhead?” Steve gasped, and his voice was so hoarse and thick, so husky, Tony barely recognized it for a second.

 

Tony hesitated for a moment, not wanting to lose the steadying touch of Steve’s hands on him, skimming along his thighs as he set him down, then lifting to curl at his waist and holding there, before he managed a smile and a nod. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I’m good.” He took a deep breath, feeling suddenly very aware of his lack of height in comparison to Steve without the heels as he looked up at him, his stockinged feet oddly cold against the floor, but then his eyes fell on the straining erection between Steve’s legs, and he felt his smile widen. Tony gave a low whistle, just to see Steve blush, reached out, traced his thumbs over the line of Steve’s hipbones, and got to see him squirm, his hips rolling almost helplessly under the touch. “Look at you, huh?” he murmured. “Looks like I’m not the only one feeling a little on edge.” Steve’s tiny shorts were barely containing him now at all, his cock a very definite outline where it pushed against the fabric, tilted to the side where he’d fit it in, tenting the fabric outward so that it had come away from his skin, revealing his hipbone, the sensitive skin of his inner hip and thigh, enough that Tony could see a hint of blond curls along with how it had slipped down to reveal the trail of hair that disappeared into Steve’s waistband. His skin was so smooth all over that it was somehow an extra thrill whenever that hint of hair was revealed. It practically made Tony’s mouth water, that and the way the silky fabric clung to the heavy weight of Steve’s dick, highlighting the size, the weight of it, the way it was pressing against the fabric as if it would spring free any moment.

 

Steve’s eyes followed Tony’s downwards, and Tony could see the flush deepening on his shoulders and chest, spreading down even over his thighs. His hand came up, hesitated in midair again, like he wanted to touch himself, but wasn’t quite ready to, and he dropped it with an unsteady breath. “Yeah,” he said, a little breathless. “I wasn’t expecting—I mean.” He gave a little laugh. “I didn’t think it’d affect me this way, and then you—the way you look, you, I just . . . it took me by surprise.” His voice was very husky, very warm and a little shaky, and he got more and more breathless as he went on.

 

“In a good way, right?” Tony asked, teasing but wanting to hear it anyway, and maybe that was a little needy, but the hell with it, as he reached out and traced both hands, the backs of his fingers, along the muscles of Steve’s belly, watching as Steve’s muscles tightened, rippled and shuddered under his touch, and Steve let out another unsteady breath. Even as Tony touched him, his cock rose, pulling up toward his belly, the fabric barely stretching with it now.

 

“A very good way, Tony,” Steve said, breathless, his voice strained and tight, “are you kidding? Y-you’re always beautiful, but—” he hesitated, swallowed, and his voice dropped about an octave when he spoke again “—the way you look, I—”

 

Tony grinned, went up on his tiptoes to wrap an arm around Steve’s neck, press a kiss to his cheek, feeling his lip gloss smear again. “Big success, then,” he said. “You look ridiculously hot yourself, tiger.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, shakily, his voice still all low and rumbling, “b-big success.” His hands fell to Tony’s hips and curved there, stroking as if to feel the way the fabric flared out under his fingertips, then drifted down, stroked at the skin of Tony’s thighs as the skirt gave way, and now Tony was shivering. He dropped down to his feet and tilted his head up, offering, parting his lips, and then Steve’s mouth was on his again.

 

Tony braced himself with both hands on Steve’s shoulders, curling loosely as the kiss grew wet and hot, as Steve nipped at his bottom lip until it stung and Tony gasped, then sucked gently, slid his tongue along it; that had to be a trick he’d picked up from Tony, since it was one he so often used on him, but Tony barely had time for the thought before it was drifting away again on a sea of the heat and sensation sweeping through his entire body. He had no idea how long they spent kissing, breath traded back between their mouths as their lips slipped and slid and clung together, lost in it, before he finally pulled his brain back together and thought to murmur on a breath of air right against Steve’s lips, “You can, you know. Touch me, wherever.”

 

Steve sucked in a breath, his eyes fluttered closed, then opened again. “Can I?” he murmured, without pulling back. His lips looked pink, shiny with Tony’s lip gloss. His hands slid down again, petted down the outside of Tony’s thighs.

 

“Mmm,” Tony said in agreement, then it left him on a broken, moaning gasp when Steve’s hands slid back up and under the skirt, ghosting along the cheeks of his ass before he took them in a firmer grip and pushed up and in, cupping them firm in both hands. This time Tony didn’t have the heels as an excuse for how his knees went weak and wobbly and he almost fell forward against Steve’s chest. Steve squeezed, and then his hands drifted back down, gripping at Tony’s thighs, stroking, almost massaging. Tony could feel how hard he was, and it was a strange feeling, all tightly bound up in the panties he was wearing, cock straining at the fabric but not getting very far, not exactly uncomfortable, but close. He heard himself panting as if from a long way away as Steve’s touch sent waves of sensation jolting through his body. It was very—vivid, very intense. He thought he’d maybe never been quite so aware of his own erection before, and that included when he’d been a horny teenager. He felt like he needed Steve’s hands on him right _now_ , but was almost afraid of how intense it would feel if Steve actually touched him there, like he could wait forever but not another second. He groaned, trembled, rocked on the soles of his feet as Steve traced his big palms over his knees, then up the sensitive inside of his thighs, making him shiver as he felt it through the thin, silky fabric of the pantyhose.

 

And then Steve’s hand was on his thigh, fingers brushing the lace trim of the panties at the crease of Tony’s thigh, and Tony let out a heavy breath through his nose, feeling every throb of his heart in his dick. “Oh,” Steve breathed against Tony’s lips. “You’re wearing—”

 

It took every fiber of concentration Tony possessed to pant through his nose, close his mouth, and collect his scattered thoughts enough to figure out how to answer. “Whole package,” he managed, even though the words came out breathy and gasping. “I—I couldn’t leave that—that part out either. Had to, to match, you know?”

 

“God, Tony,” Steve breathed. His fingers smoothed along the fabric of the panties, then tugged lightly at the hem. Tony groaned as it jostled his hard cock, felt it throb even more intently behind the tight cotton.

 

“Steve,” he gasped.

 

“Just the thought of you wearing these the whole time has me seeing stars,” Steve murmured all husky and hoarse, and Tony’s knees went a little weak. Well, even weaker. “And a garter, too?” His fingers traced along the lace. “God, Tony. I—you—you really went all out.”

 

“Honey,” Tony groaned.

 

“Easy,” Steve, voice so low it was little more than a soft rumble, “I’ve gotcha.” And then he pressed his hand to the center of the panties, right against Tony’s cock. Heat rushed to Tony’s groin, and he pressed forward against Steve’s hand without even thinking, the pressure against his dick even through the thick cotton making him shake with the intensity of it—it didn’t even feel like pleasure exactly, furious and incredible. Somehow it combined in his head with the things Steve had just said, made everything even more intense, and he couldn’t even think.

 

“Steve,” he gasped, slid his hands up around Steve’s neck to hang on, even as he rolled his hips up into the touch, couldn’t help it, very aware of the constricting tightness of the panties now. He’d have thought it’d be uncomfortable, but it was just—hot, with Steve’s warm, broad palm so steady and solid against his aching need, the fabric keeping him contained, trapping him behind that touch. “D-damn, you feel good.” His voice came out all uneven and shaking, and he couldn’t even care.

 

“Mmm,” Steve said, raspy and almost dreamy. His lips brushed slow and soft against Tony’s cheek, just above his beard, as he rolled his hand a little. Tony groaned, shaking, as pleasure shot through him, down to his cock. Steve’s other hand skimmed over his other thigh, callused fingers gentle through the fabric of the stocking. The touch was so soft and gentle that it made Tony tremble even more, made him feel weak, and he slid his arms around Steve’s shoulders more firmly, even though it meant he had to slide up a little on the balls of his feet to do it.

 

“G-glad you like ‘em,” Tony managed to think enough to say after a moment.

 

“What color are they?” Steve asked, voice still low and thick.

 

Tony blinked through the haze in his head that seemed all-encompassing now that Steve was actually _touching_ him. “Blue,” he breathed out, finally. “With polka dots.”

 

“I like it,” Steve mumbled, and bit the top of Tony’s ear, very very lightly. His breath was warm and wet and made Tony tremble even as Steve continued to press on him, not too hard, just where he wanted it most. He tried not to rock on his heels, rut too obviously against it, but it was an effort of will.

 

Tony felt very warm in the face now. “Believe it or not,” he managed, “it was a little tricky to get them made in my size. I guess vintage styles aren’t as popular.”

 

Steve gave a soft laugh. “Yeah,” he said, voice still all low and rough, “I bet.” His other hand stroked gently down the outside of Tony’s thigh, thumb rubbing a slow path. Tony groaned, feeling himself throbbing needily in the tight confines of the panties, couldn’t help himself from rolling his hips. He felt so hot. Steve gently kissed his ear, then surprised him by moving away. He squeezed his hand lightly over Tony’s dick even as he did, and Tony gasped at the pleasure, felt his head fall back.

 

Steve surprised him again by leaning forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his sternum, right between his collarbones, above the arc reactor. Tony groaned, and his hands tightened by instinct on Steve’s neck, sinking into his hair. “Baby,” he mumbled, half incoherent, and knew he was babbling (already? God).

 

“I guess we’ll have to be careful,” Steve murmured. His breath was warm, feathering over Tony’s skin. “Not to mess them up. I’d like to see you wear them again.”

 

“S-sure thing,” Tony managed, laughing a little. “Yeah.” Don’t mess them up. Right. He’d—he’d have to remember that, but he could do that. He wasn’t that close.

 

Steve leaned over to kiss the top of one of Tony’s bare shoulders, the underside of his arm, then his cheek again. Tony’s knees wobbled, going even weaker, and he didn’t realize that he was wavering until Steve wrapped his arm around his waist, settled his hand against his ass firmly to steady him. Well, he wasn’t proud of needing it so often or so early on, but he couldn’t deny that Steve’s attention to not letting him fall on his ass was appreciated.

 

“Wh-what about you?” he managed to get out, let one hand slide down Steve’s neck, over his shoulder. It felt so different in the gloves, and the contrast against Steve’s skin, glowing with his blush, held his attention. He stroked his hand gently over Steve’s side, and Steve shuddered against him. “Wouldn’t want to neglect my best guy, after all.”

 

Steve sucked in his breath.

 

Tony grinned up at him, catching his breath a little. He could feel his own chest heaving now. “You looked like you were just about ready to pop earlier,” he murmured, and shifted forward with a little roll of his hips to press them together until he could feel Steve’s erection against his belly, hot even through the layers of fabric. “There’s my big boy,” he purred in his ear, and he saw Steve flush in a brilliant wash of heat down over his chest until he was almost magenta-red.

 

“Tony!” he gasped, practically yelped, then groaned, bit down on his bottom lip. The step forward pushed his hand in against Tony’s cock, too, and that was—it felt really good. Tony wondered if his eyes were going to cross, even as he leaned in against Steve and rolled his hips. Steve groaned audibly, and his head sagged forward, but Tony had to hold onto him in response, because his hand hadn’t lost any pressure against Tony’s dick, and pleasure shivered through him hot and urgent, pounding in his dick, every time he rolled himself forward against it. But he could feel Steve’s barely trapped cock jerking and desperate between his legs, trapped up against Tony’s belly, against his belt. “A-ah,” Steve moaned against Tony’s shoulder. His mouth felt wet against his bare skin. “Tony—I—oh, God, please—” he was all breathless and shuddery, all through, and now his hand was going limp between Tony’s legs, but that was all right. Tony reached down and gripped his wrist, pulling his hand back and behind Tony until Steve got the idea and wrapped it around his back and Tony could step in, rub Steve up against him properly. Steve made a broken little noise and clutched him tighter, even as his dick slid up and down between the folds of Tony’s skirt.

 

“Listen,” Tony said, rubbing at Steve’s side, then, mouthing wet kisses against his neck, dragged his hand up to pinch and squeeze at Steve’s erect nipple even through the tight little top. Steve gave a tight, hot, explosive little breath into his neck, and his hips rolled jerkily. “How d’you want to do this, exactly, big guy?”

 

Steve groaned into his neck, hips jerking again as Tony rubbed his thumb over his nipple, teasing at it until he went back to tugging at it, Steve’s pecs warm and heaving, straining against the top under Tony’s gloved fingers. “Tony,” he gasped, “I—I can’t—can’t think with you—d-doing that.”

 

Tony grinned and bit lightly at Steve’s smooth jaw. “Sorry,” he said, unrepentantly, and tugged Steve’s nipple again, feeling the other man’s chest heave as if on command. He rolled his hips forward against Steve’s, and Steve groaned. It really felt good, even if there wasn’t much pressure on Tony’s own cock this way, they were close together and there was some, enough to have him shivering with pleasure each time he did it. Tony sighed into Steve’s skin. “Y-you know,” he managed, “I was hoping that this would—that you’d like it. So I cleaned up—earlier. Before I got—uh, got dressed. If you wanted to, you could just flip my skirt up and fuck me. If you wanted.” He’d thought, maybe, that in this get-up, anal would be the way to go, to, he didn’t know, complete the illusion or something, for Steve, but now that he was here, in the moment, he really _wanted_ it, like he was just aching for Steve’s dick in his asshole, inside his body, deep inside, fucking him so hard he saw stars. Like nothing else would quite be enough to satisfy him.

 

“You,” Steve gasped, hips still jerking forward, “you sure?”

 

“Damn sure,” Tony told him, breathless himself, and he was.

 

“I’d like that,” Steve managed, raising his head, breathless and red-faced, grinning, and Tony didn’t know how he did it, but he managed to sound so sincere, so sweetly pleased, that it hit Tony hard enough to leave him reeling. He leaned up and into Steve and pressed a kiss to his lips, closing his own eyes.

 

“Then you got it,” he murmured against his lips. Steve’s lips brushed warm and soft against his, parting slightly, his arms curling around him, and it was a long moment before Tony could bring himself to pull away.   He slid back down to his feet and blinked, a little unsteadily. “Okay, there’s, uh, there’s some lube around here somewhere,” he said. “I had some in that—purse or whatever.” He saw it lying on the sofa of their living room that they were about two steps away from. “There,” he said, and Steve let him go.

 

He immediately felt the loss, even though that was stupid, but the room felt cold without Steve’s arms around him. He flushed as he crossed the room and leaned over to swipe up the little bag, unzipping the back pocket and drawing out the tube. He tossed it to Steve, who caught it easily, even though he still looked wide-eyed and dazed, and very, very flushed, then blinked as he looked at him, because Steve’s little shorts were only clinging to his cock by the barest margin now, and they were starting to look a little wet—Steve always leaked a ton of precome, and the whole front of his shorts was damp with it. Tony looked down at his skirt and grinned as he found a damp patch, right at the crotch of the skirt where Steve had been rubbing up against him and swiped at it with his gloved fingers.

 

Steve blushed and this time his hand did come down and cover his cock, gripping at it loosely. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

 

“Hey, do not apologize for getting wet for me,” Tony told him. “That is—that is so hot, seriously. Do you have any idea how hot that is?”

 

Steve bit his lip, and one side of his mouth pulled uncertainly, but he nodded.

 

“You don’t have any idea, do you?” Tony asked. “Seriously. It’s so hot.”

 

Steve was smiling now, though still brilliantly red all over. That was more like it. Steve should never feel self-conscious about how much he leaked leading up to the main event—it was one of the most gorgeous things Tony had ever seen.

 

“While I’m over here,” Tony said, thinking aloud, really, “I should probably take those panties off.”

 

“Aww, jeez,” Steve said, grinning a little. “I get to watch, right?”

 

Tony suddenly felt very warm, at the thought, and it was weird to realize that he was feeling flustered. Of all things, to discover the ability to feel self-conscious about stripping _now_ , he thought, a little uncertainly, thrown off balance. But Steve was standing there in the Ironette outfit, all glorious abs and hard cock with wet material barely clinging to it and looking at him with so much warmth and interest and—

 

Tony swallowed. “You bet, gorgeous,” he said. “I mean, I’m not gonna go to all this trouble teasing you then not deliver the goods.”

 

Steve smiled. “That’s a relief,” he said. “The stockings too, I mean,” his smile widened, “you wouldn’t want to get a run.”

 

“Yeah, they’ll be coming off too,” Tony said, feeling warm and overwhelmed still. “For, uh, you know, easy access.” Right, he could do this. He was a genius, brilliant engineer; he was pretty sure he remembered how to get the damn garter belt off. Suddenly uncertain over making it a show, he reached down and gathered up his skirt in one hand, raising it to give Steve a good view of his navy blue panties with white dots. His hard cock was a solid shape pressing against the tight fabric, visibly erect even through the thick cotton, and Tony fought the urge to flush at that, feeling a slow burn of heat at how it looked. Who’d’ve thought this would turn him on, too, how it looked, how he looked in it? It gave Steve a great view of the lace trim over his thighs, the garter belt, red lace that framed the panties and held up the stockings he’d been wearing.

 

“Oh, wow,” Steve said, and he sounded a little breathless, blown away. The awed tone in his voice _was_ awfully gratifying, Tony wasn’t going to deny it.

 

“So you like how I look in panties, huh, champ?” he asked, trying for low and knowing, a sultry sort of purr. It came out—okay, he thought, and when he looked up, he saw Steve turn deeper red in response.

 

“You always look incredible, Tony,” he said, deep and warm, and Tony felt his cheeks heat, even as Steve flushed a little more and added, as if self-conscious, “but yes, I sure do.”

 

“Oh, come on,” Tony said, “not always.” But he couldn’t deny how flattering that was, how warm it made him feel, even hotter in the face as he reached down and unhooked the first strap of the garter belt. The movement made him hyper-aware of his dick trapped behind the panties and throbbing, the way he was holding his skirt up and showing himself off, and he swallowed. He knew Steve was looking, could feel the hot, heavy weight of his gaze on him, but he didn’t look up, just unsnapped the snaps and let the stockings curl down his legs, sliding down to hang loosely just over his knees, then reached down and slid them off, first one, then the other. He couldn’t resist curling his toes, circling his foot, as he got the first one off—it felt strange to have his feet bare again.

 

“Yes, Tony, you really do,” Steve said, his voice low and rough again. “Always.”

 

Tony swallowed and tossed the rolled up stockings onto the sofa before he reached up and unfastened the garter belt and tossed it after them. His cock ached and throbbed in his panties, and he felt very aware of his skin, every inch of it prickling, how needy he felt, how much more naked he felt with the stockings off. He swallowed, and reached up for his panties, but before he started there, he couldn’t resist a glance up at Steve.

 

His eyes were blown and dark, and his hand had tightened around his cock, straining at the edge of his shorts and even harder, furious and needy and red between his fingers, his cheeks flushed the deepest red they’d gone yet. His skin stood out against the gaudy little outfit it was so flushed. The sight of him rushed straight to Tony’s head, made him feel dizzy and warm all over and a little dazed.

 

That—that was something else. Knowing that he’d made Steve look like that. _Seeing_ it all. It was a rush for sure, and hell if that wasn’t something to be proud of. Tony smiled a little as he bent down again and rolled down the top of the panties, took a deep breath and then started to pull them off, working them down gingerly over his sensitive dick, very aware of how it prickled and throbbed with every movement. He bit his own lip as it was exposed to the air and worked the panties down a little more until it sprang up, hard, against his belly. The panties were rolled up around his thighs now, and he wriggled a little as he rolled them down, to get them off, until they were around his knees and he could step out of them easily. He tossed them over onto the sofa, too, keeping his skirt pulled up for a moment to give Steve a show of his now bare cock, hard and aching between his legs, then turned back, met Steve’s eyes.

 

Steve bit his bottom lip, then licked it, a little uncertainly. His eyes locked on Tony’s cock, roamed over his entire body, then focused in on his dick again. The way he was looking at it made Tony feel very self-conscious, in the best way, and he felt another wave of warm heat surge through him, all the way from the crown of his head to his toes. He bit his own lip in response, looking at Steve, feeling himself start to smile before he let go of the skirt and let it settle back down over his hard dick. It was quite a feeling as the fabric drifted back down around his sensitive flesh, teasing and shifting in a way he wasn’t used to feeling on an erection at all.

 

“I, um,” he said, and his voice came out scratchy and thick. “What next?” He shivered, tried to resist the urge to take himself in hand, skirt and all, and stroke just to relieve the throbbing, needy ache that the soft flutter of the skirt only made worse, itching and wanting until it was almost impossible not to pump his hips into it.

 

“I don’t know,” Steve said, still biting at his bottom lip. The gesture was so unconscious, so unknowingly sensual, that Tony almost groaned. “I, uh. Why don’t you, you, lie down there on the—the couch and get yourself wet for me?”

 

Tony almost didn’t, _couldn’t_ process the words for a long moment, and when he finally did, they hit him like Steve had hit him in the ring and rung his bell, only—only better. A hell of a lot better. “Should I—should I show you how I like it?” he managed to get it, but it came out husky and low, rough, barely more than a whisper.

 

Steve was turning so red. “Yeah,” he said unsteadily. “Show me—show me what gets you wet, doll.”

 

Tony had the feeling he was flushing, even as he stumbled backward and sank down on the couch, a little clumsily, he thought. He felt uncertain, even as he spread his knees apart, felt the skirt flutter over his thighs, the coolness of the sofa against his thighs and bare crotch, his balls. He had to keep back a shiver even as he reached down for his cock, under the skirt—it was strange to be still mostly clothed and yet feel so naked and bare against the sofa, but know the skirt was still hiding him from Steve. He felt very aware of the way his erection was tenting the fabric, even as he pushed it up and back and revealed himself to Steve’s gaze once again.

 

Steve’s eyes were fixed on him, warm and heavy, and he looked breathless, like he was holding his breath. Tony felt his stomach turn over, heavy and warm, an unsteady flip, and immediately felt a sense of vertigo. Steve’s eyes on him were overwhelming, dizzying, felt all-encompassing. For a moment, he couldn’t move, afraid to move his hand, almost, felt such a rush of desire to please him, to live up to whatever Steve was thinking, that he almost couldn’t breathe himself. He tilted his head back, over the back of the sofa, and closed his eyes before he wrapped his own hand around his cock.

 

The pleasure, the warm friction, was a heady rush after so long, but it still felt empty somehow, because it wasn’t Steve’s hand, wasn’t his hands on Tony, his own hand not as warm or as broad. It felt strange, with the glove, distant, the fabric a little scratchy, a barrier between his own hand and his sensitive flesh that made him all the more aware of the throbbing heat in his cock, the overheated need of the sensitive skin. Tony took a deep, shaking breath, let it out, just enjoying the feel of friction and heat, the solidity of cupping his own hand against that persistent, frantic ache, and then closed his fingers lightly around his cock and began to stroke.

 

He found himself going oddly soft, easy—he tended not to ever take it too fast when he touched himself, usually went slow-paced, but now he found himself taking it even softer, slower, just sliding his hand along, letting himself luxuriate in the throb of his cock, the slow, needing ache. Knowing Steve was watching made his whole body tingle, all over, and the feeling of the glove was a strange scratch against skin so sensitive Tony swore just someone blowing on it could have made him gasp and pant with need. He squeezed just a little and felt himself groan as if from a long way away. He could feel prickles of sweat along his hairline, felt overheated all over. He didn’t open his eyes. The heat and pleasure felt so intense, centered in his groin, shooting along his cock, even as he stroked himself again. He could feel himself leaking precome, getting wet—just like Steve had said, and it sent another shooting arc of heat through him, could feel the dampness against his glove. He groaned again, tried not to arch his back against the sofa, but couldn’t help it. The feeling was just so—so different from what he was used to, and he could still feel the pleats of the skirt against his bare thighs, fabric teasing and shifting with every stroke of his wrist. It somehow made him feel more exposed than if he had been entirely naked. He felt hyper-aware of himself again, not just his cock and the pleasure shooting through him from the grip he had on himself, how damp and wet it felt, but his back bare against the back of the sofa, the bare skin of his ass and his thighs, his arms bare above the gloves, the hair starting to stick to the back of his neck, the way his chest was heaving.

 

“You’re messing up your pretty gloves,” Steve’s voice was hushed and thick, and at the sound of it, Tony gulped, feeling almost dizzy. “Getting them all wet.”

 

“Y-yeah,” Tony agreed, lightheaded so that his tongue felt big and clumsy in his mouth. He didn’t open his eyes, but he could imagine Steve looking at him, could imagine what his face might look like—lips parted, breathless, flushed, or maybe chewing on his bottom lip. Maybe he was touching himself, or maybe he had his hands clasped behind him that way he did sometimes when he didn’t want to touch himself just yet, was trying to resist the temptation.

 

“You’re taking it slow,” Steve said, still in that hoarse, husky, low voice. His voice seemed to wash over Tony, covering him like a blanket, making his skin prickle as if Steve had dragged his hand over him, over every inch of his body. “You like it that slow and easy, sweetheart?”

 

“Sometimes,” Tony managed to get out thickly. His tongue still felt too big in his mouth.

 

“You want me to touch you like that?” Steve asked. His voice was even softer now, lower, and it had a low rumble to it that shivered through Tony, sent heat through his belly, to his groin. He shivered, felt himself tremble, even as he squeezed his hand against the base of his cock and felt the pleasure, the friction of it, shoot through him. He held himself there, just tight enough that the pleasure kept rolling through him, for a moment before he dragged his hand up along himself again, concentrating at the scratchy feel of the gloves.

 

“N-no,” he finally managed to remember to gasp out. “You can. You can touch me however you want.”

 

He could hear Steve’s smile in his voice this time. “However I want?” he said. “You sure about that?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony mumbled. “However you’d like to do it.” He slid his hand down again, back up, a little faster. He could feel the sweat tingling under his arms, along his hairline, along the back of his neck, all the more vividly. He couldn’t help the way his hips wanted to arch up into his hand. “Steve,” he managed to get out, past his thick, heavy tongue. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted, what he was asking for. He opened his eyes, just in time to see Steve skirt the coffee table, push it back, and kneel right in front of him. His cheeks were bright red, his hair a sweaty mess, and he bit his bottom lip, sucked on it, as he reached out and laid one gloved, broad hand on Tony’s knee. His hand felt so warm, even through the shiny fabric, and Tony shivered.

 

“Is this all right?” Steve asked, sounding breathless, his voice just a hint of a low, eager rasp.

 

Tony nodded. “Yes,” he said. “God, yes.” Steve started rubbing absently at his knee, up over his thigh, against his bare skin, and damn, he felt like he could come just from that.

 

Steve leaned up, touched their lips together, and Tony closed his eyes, just let himself revel in the soft brush of Steve’s mouth, the damp warmth of his breath over his lips, against his cheek, the warmth of his body as he leaned up and over him, even though their skin didn’t even touch, radiating into him. Steve nipped at his bottom lip and Tony gasped, felt himself arch up into it, the sensation going through him with a tingling thrill. When Steve pulled away, he was still gasping. Steve smiled a little. “What next?” he practically whispered. His lips looked so pink and puffy and wet that it was hard not to stare at them.

 

Tony gave a shaky breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Hell, you tell me,” he said. He skimmed his gloved fingers down, past his balls, pressed them in at his perineum, and was surprised by the amount of pleasure that shot through him from the sensitive skin to settle and burn in his groin. He was so sensitized right now that he thought anything might have sent that sweetly hot fire of pleasure through him. He rubbed his fingers there, groaning.

 

“Are you ready for me, then?” Steve asked. His eyes were so wide and blue, mesmerizing to Tony’s scattered mind and focus, so that he couldn’t look away. His brain seemed to zero in on Steve’s long eyelashes, the way they framed his light eyes, the patterns of them. Tony knew he kept staring at Steve, but he couldn’t seem to help it, the way he was catching and drawing his attention, his scattered mind focusing in on each detail, hyper-aware.

 

Tony licked his bottom lip, trying to think. “Y-yeah,” he breathed. “Past that.” He gave an unsteady little laugh. “I’m so ready, honey.”

 

“Me too,” Steve said, with a grin that took Tony’s breath away. His eyes dropped between Tony’s legs, and he licked his lip again, sucked in his breath. Tony felt dizzy as he skimmed his hands back up, curled his hand around his cock and held it up, against his groin, cupping his balls in his other hand and tugging them up so that Steve had a clear view of his hole. His skin was prickling all over, and he felt hot and cold at the same time, somehow, felt his face warming, getting hotter as Steve looked at him and chewed on his bottom lip. His head spun.

 

“Promise I won’t go too fast,” Steve said. He tugged off his glove, and Tony felt himself bite his lip as he watched him. “Sorry,” Steve said, “but I want my fingers bare inside you.” Tony bit down even harder, to keep back a moan, just at the thought if it, the way he’d phrased it, felt heat twist in his gut.

 

“Sure,” he heard himself rasp out, a ragged whisper. “Sounds—sounds good.”

 

Steve’s eyes creased a little more with his smile, even as he opened the cap on the bottle of lube and slicked his fingers. His face was so red. Tony felt his own skin heating up as Steve’s gaze returned to his cock and hole. He felt hyper-aware of his own spread legs, his bare groin and ass, the way his skirt was hiked up to expose him, the way he was holding himself up to bare himself extra.

 

Even though he was watching, the first touch of Steve’s fingers was a shock, blunt and bare and warm against the sensitive skin of his opening. Tony heard himself gasp again, even though Steve didn’t even try to penetrate him, just skimmed two lube-slick fingers over his hole, up to press on his perineum, then back down. Tony found himself writhing under the sudden pressure, the pleasure that shot through him, his hips rolling and twisting, but somehow managed to keep his legs spread, his posture open, even as his chest heaved. He felt so hot, all over.

 

Steve rubbed him there for a while, what felt like a good few minutes, massaging with his fingers, pressing and rubbing but not pushing in. His fingers always felt so big, every time they did this, like Tony somehow forgot in between how big Steve’s hands were. It made him feel stupidly small and fragile, and a little anxious even though he knew Steve’s fingers, and his dick, had fit inside him just fine plenty of times. It always felt, somehow, like they weren’t going to, and the engineering part of his brain started babbling about proportions and equations and mass. He grimaced, shifted his hips, trying to shake the moment of tension, and Steve just made a humming sound, rubbing his other hand along Tony’s thigh, circling his slick fingers with gentle pressure right over Tony’s hole. “Your skin’s so smooth,” was all he said, and Tony couldn’t think for a moment, his mind skipping over the words like a bad track.

 

Finally his slow brain managed to process them, and he stuttered, “Uh, yeah, I—I shaved.” And he’d moisturized and lotioned, too, by the way, a little extra, what was the point of having shaved his legs if they turned out all rough and scratchy anyway?

 

“I can tell,” Steve murmured, smiling. He traced his still-gloved hand down, over Tony’s knee, skimmed his fingers down Tony’s calf, fingers of his other hand still moving slowly, almost idly, against that sensitive spot between his cheeks. “It shows off your skin real nice, baby doll.”

 

“D-does it?” Wow, Tony thought, he sounded like an idiot, but he couldn’t seem to get his brain together enough to manage more of a response, not when Steve was touching him like that, and his fingers were still circling, massaging, pressing gently over his hole.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Steve said, with a gust of breath. “Sure does. Just beautiful. Your skin’s so pretty anyway.”

 

Tony felt himself smile, bit his lip. His face felt warmer suddenly. It was the simplest, most ridiculous of compliments, but still—and then Steve flexed his fingers over his hole and he gasped, felt his head twist, toss back, his own hands tightening on his cock and balls. Steve still didn’t press in, just kept his fingers rubbing and circling.

 

Tony was lucky, he thought, even as he groaned and shuddered, that Steve was patient with him, and the way he tightened up, trembling and nervous, so damn often. Steve almost always went slow, gave Tony plenty of time to relax and loosen up for him. Though—the couple of times he had gone fast and hard, usually after a mission, shoving his fingers into Tony impatiently, rough and eager, and following them up with the heavy, blunt, too-big press of his cock, lived vividly in Tony’s memory, made him feel hot and buzzing, dizzy, even now, even though every time it left him sore and aching, and there was no way he could take that every time, not unless he forgot about sitting down ever again. Even now, when he felt like he was practically aching for Steve’s cock, his skin on fire with it, just thinking about his size was intimidating.

 

Steve smoothed his hand back up, over Tony’s thigh, his thumb brushing gently, then pressing in, against Tony’s perineum, even while he rocked slick knuckles back over his hole, and Tony gasped, felt the air leave him in a low moan as his head fell back over the back of the sofa. The ceiling seemed to spin dizzily in and out of focus. He wasn’t even sure if it was pleasure, exactly, it was just that his skin was so sensitized there, from the tip of his cock to his hole, and every touch felt overwhelming, so intense, Steve’s fingers so big and warm despite his soft, gentle slowness. He thought maybe he should get a grip and get it together, but he couldn’t seem to think about it very hard. He took a deep breath and gulped it down his throat.

 

“Hey, that’s it,” Steve murmured after a moment—or, well, Tony wasn’t sure how long, but he figured it had been a moment. He reached back up for the lube, and then just a few moments later Tony felt his strong finger stroke over him again and push inside. He gasped, choked on his breath, felt his eyes roll back in his head or something. He didn’t mean to flail out with one hand, but he did and then he was gripping onto Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s finger was overwhelming, just for a moment, the pressure, and then, somehow it felt a little more normal, the pressure and presence of it inside him, and he could breathe again. “Take it easy, Tony,” Steve murmured, leaning forward again to feather kisses along Tony’s jaw, down along the sensitive skin of his neck.

 

“Y-yeah, sure,” Tony managed to stutter out. His chest was heaving. “That—that’s easy for you to say.”

 

Steve gave a breathless little laugh. “You say that like I’m not about ready to explode,” he groaned against Tony’s neck. “God, Tony.” He pressed his finger further inside him, and Tony bit the inside of his cheek at the blunt pressure of it.

 

“S-sorry,” he manage to stutter out. “Always—always taking so long.”

 

“Hell, no,” Steve murmured against his jaw, mouth wet and dragging. “I don’t mind. It’s just—” he panted a little against Tony’s skin. “I guess I haven’t been this revved up in a—a while.”

 

It was Tony’s turn to laugh a little. Somehow he managed to skim his hand up along Steve’s arm, brush his gloved fingers against Steve’s neck. “Yeah, same here,” he said. When was the last time they’d even had sex? Like a week ago? Sure, he’d been kind of feeling it, kind of—hoping, but he hadn’t been expecting _this_.

 

Steve crooked his finger inside him, pressed up and _in_ and to the side, and what had been just a blunt, insistent, not unpleasant pressure flashed into pleasure all in an instant. Tony knew his hips arched up because it pushed Steve’s finger even deeper into him, against that spot, couldn’t help them from writhing, rolling in a slow, needy circle, felt his fingers bite into the flesh of Steve’s shoulder and couldn’t seem to help himself, even as he bit back the cry that wanted to escape him. He could taste the gloss on his lip as he bit down hard into it, and somehow that detail managed to swim through the pleasure to his brain, even though he was half blind with the sudden pleasure. “O-oh, God,” he heard himself croak out.

 

“All right?” Steve panted.

 

“Yeah, no, that was a good—good oh, God,” Tony somehow managed to get out, even as he instinctively twisted his hips again over Steve’s finger, sending more pleasure spiraling hot and heady up through him, straight into his cock. He groaned again.

 

“Easy,” Steve said, hot against his throat.

 

“Sure, sure, easy,” Tony groaned, tried to take another deep breath, willed some of the pleasure back as he blew it out, tried to focus. He could ride this, he could get in control, stay on that edge and enjoy it—it helped when Steve edged his finger off that pressure, away from that spot, started circling it around again, helping him open up, even though Tony couldn’t help mourning that insistent, sparking pleasure, rolling his hips a little to try to get it back before he managed to still himself. Just when he felt like he could really breathe again, of course, Steve added another finger and his breath stuck in his throat again as he tried to get used to the pressure, to stretch and spread, tried not to scrunch his face up as he panted for air. He was relaxing in another moment, faster this time, he thought, as Steve kept stroking him inside, working up to teasing brushes over that spot but nothing solid that had Tony jerking and shifting his hips despite himself.

 

“See?” Steve said, all breathless air and just a little sound. “Easy.”

 

“God,” Tony panted, but in a way Steve was right. He could feel himself easing up now, could feel the give as his muscles opened up and relaxed. He let his head tilt back against the back of the sofa again, let Steve’s warm, wet mouth at his neck, gentle and soft, along his throat, along under his ear, loosen him up even further. Steve nudged his lips under the collar of the dress, pressed his mouth downward, against the suddenly strangely vulnerable, sensitive-feeling skin of Tony’s collarbone, and he found himself shivering, his hand gripping tighter at the back of Steve’s neck, even as he found himself tilting his hips slightly further apart for Steve’s access, felt himself relaxing and opening up, his muscles stretching to accommodate Steve's wide, blunt fingers. He tried to pull himself together again, get his thoughts in gear. “You can, you can go for it,” he managed to stammer out. He knew Steve was feeling needy, on edge, about ready to pop. He didn’t want to make him wait, and Tony had to be mostly ready for him at least. Steve always seemed too big for him anyway, after all, and he could always take it. Right? He turned his face, managed to brush his lips along Steve’s cheek. “I’m ready, I’m ready enough, really, I am.”

 

Steve shook his head, panting as he pressed kisses down, along Tony’s chest, making him shiver, his fingers still moving inside him. “Don’t want to rush you,” he said, all breathless, the words quick and almost mashed together muttered into his skin, “not when you’re almost there, anyway.” He looked up at Tony quickly and smiled. His eyes looked starry and dazed, his face still all red, and his hair was a tousled, golden mess falling over his forehead and into his eyes. Tony caught his breath, wet his bottom lip. “Besides,” Steve said. His voice was hushed, still so breathless, and he grinned a little more. “You’re still so tense,” he said, “and I wanted to do,” he shifted on his knees, started to pull back, “this,” he finished, and bent his head down, curled his gloved hand around Tony’s cock, against Tony's own hand, and took the tip of it into his mouth.

 

Tony wasn’t sure of the sound he made and couldn’t manage to worry about how it had sounded, just knew it came out strangled, as that wet heat closed around him and sent a spike of pleasure right through his groin. His skin suddenly felt hot, too small for him, and he found himself tossing his head against the sofa, trying not to buck up into Steve’s mouth, his hand tightening desperately in Steve’s hair just to have something to grip onto. He felt dizzy, the room spinning around him. He didn’t mean to pull, but Steve just hummed, sounding pleased, sending more pleasure sparking high and tight into Tony’s belly and groin, and sucked lightly on him. Tony didn’t even know what was happening for a second, couldn’t focus through it, just lost in the combined feeling of Steve’s warm, wet mouth around his cock and the fingers still working and stretching in his ass, gently spreading him open.

 

Steve took it easy on him at first, just mouthing at him and sucking, gentle movements of his mouth and lips over the over-sensitized skin of Tony’s cock, and the intense arc of pleasure started to settle into something easy and slow, that made Tony’s head feel floating and fuzzy, sure, but something he could follow, could relax into, rocking between the feel of Steve’s mouth on his cock and his fingers in his hole. When he finally managed to get his head together enough and look down, though, it took his breath away and he felt dizzy all over again, just the sight of Steve’s tousled golden head bent over him, the contrast between Steve’s brief outfit and pink, flushed, sweat-sheened skin and Tony’s own skirt, his gloves, contrasted against Steve’s hair, the dusky flesh of his own cock where he was still gripping himself, his skirt rucked up around his hips, baring his wide-splayed thighs and cock where Steve was sucking at him. He groaned, licked his lips, felt his head drop back—and Steve took that as an invitation to take him in even further.

 

Tony had practiced deepthroating, giving head, and he liked to think he’d gotten damn good at it over the years, could take just about anything, and he’d been pretty damn pleased that even after Afghanistan, even after everything, when it came to a cock or a dildo down his throat his gag reflex was still pretty much nonexistent. (It had made him feel, hell, who knew, good, though, like that was still the same, like he still had it, like his decisions couldn’t be all that affected by PTSD or whatever the fuck if he still had it in bed, if that even made sense.)

 

Steve, though, Steve had a gag reflex, and a pretty good one, as they’d found out a couple of different times. Stick anything far enough down his throat—a cock, fingers, dildo, a goddamn popsicle—and he’d start to cough and choke. That didn’t make him any less eager to go down on Tony, though, and damn if he wasn’t sweet about it, so—so damn _earnest_ , like sucking cock was worth his whole attention, his whole being, like he was going to do the best damn job he could and maybe get a blue ribbon at the fair for it, or something. Tony didn’t think Steve flat out _enjoyed_ it as much as he himself did, but he knew Steve didn’t mind it, either, plenty eager to get his mouth on Tony and suck, and he was so sweet about it, so good, and the way he’d blush and flush and shiver all through his body—like he was doing now, lips locked around Tony’s cock and sucking gently, the color all high on his cheeks. Tony groaned, and Steve just slid down on him, took him in a little more, sucked harder.

 

He had to be almost at his limit, so Tony concentrated as best he could on not bucking up, even as he could barely think about anything other than the heat and pleasure of it, the ache in his groin and his cock, the counterpoint to the slow movements of Steve’s fingers inside him as a distant backdrop. Steve released him after a moment, slid his mouth back up to suck and play at the head again, and Tony heard himself sigh, shaking all over, felt his muscles going loose. He let his head sag back, his hand stroking through Steve’s hair, feeling the loose tousle of it, the silky texture, strange through the gloves but still present, letting himself ruffle it, mess it up, and stroking it back down again. Steve hummed again, sounding pleased and a little vague and dizzy himself, still giving him those loose, easy pulls of his mouth, interspersed with gentle sucking. Tony was lulled into floating there, right on the edge but nowhere near tipping over, pleasure all through his cock, flaring against Steve’s loose grip on his base, against his balls, the slow easy stretch open of his hole. With Steve’s mouth on him and fingers inside him and hand cupping and holding his cock for him, Tony’s hand cupped up against the strong warm curve of his head under his hand, it was so easy to think about, feel, feel nothing but Steve, all around him. Tony could hear himself panting, but it was as if it was from a long way away. Steve rubbed his thumb lightly against Tony’s cock, just the base of him, sweet, easy strokes, and Tony groaned, trembled, ached.

 

They could have stayed like that forever; Tony had no idea, lost track of time completely. Just knew that there was sweat beading on his forehead and along his collarbones, prickly in the cool air, along his shoulder blades and against the leather of the sofa, while the whole rest of his being was focused on the wet heat around his cock, Steve’s warm lips where they were closed sweet around him, his thumb against the base of Tony’s cock moving up and down in slow, easy, strokes, and distantly, like it was in the background, a low grade constant background buzz, Steve’s fingers moving slick and stretching inside him.

 

Things changed when Steve stretched his fingers out, until he was spreading Tony wide open, far as he would go, until Tony gasped and shuddered, felt his back muscles work and tremble, flex and arch as if that was going to do anything to ease the pressure, almost wanted to twist his hips and fight it, but also couldn’t quite bring himself to. Steve didn’t stop his gentle suckling at his cock, even as he worked a third finger into Tony and twisted all three, gentle and slow but insistent, until he was pressing back with his second knuckles against Tony’s rim. Tony felt overstretched and full, knew his legs were shaking, and then Steve pushed his fingers in a little more, twisted them again, crooked them a little, and it was pure pleasure and nothing else, the fullness just more pleasure and pressure where he wanted it most, and Steve’s mouth was so good and warm and wet and hot with suction on him and Tony was left shaking, gasping, feeling that heat coiling in his belly, his groin, in his head. He tugged helplessly at Steve’s hair, at the back of his neck. “Steve,” he said, “Steve, no, I’m, I’m too, too close, I’m gonna—”

 

Steve pulled up with a wet, sucking pop that somehow made Tony’s stomach feel even hotter, and twisty, licked his lips in a way that made it obvious how wet and shiny and swollen they were and broke the strings of glistening saliva still stretching between his mouth and Tony’s cock, then swallowed, wiped his mouth with the gloved back of his hand, letting go of Tony’s cock.

 

“Good, good,” Tony said, dizzily, his chest heaving, “thanks, thanks, baby.”

 

Steve grinned up at him, winked. “Sorry to get you so close,” he said, unrepentantly. His fingers were still deep inside Tony, resting, just resting, with gentle pressure, on his prostate, and Tony was shivering with it. “Is it okay if I ask you to hold off until I’m inside you at least?”

 

“That’s—that’s fine,” Tony said unsteadily. That was what he wanted, at least to have Steve inside him before he came off, that was—since he could probably only come once, anyway. It was easier when it was just—just him being penetrated, too, he liked it, and it felt good, but it was a different sort of pleasure, easier to feel it but not get pushed over the edge. (At least for him, Steve was a different story, came from being fucked almost every time, like his prostate was a line straight to his cock—but then, Steve was sensitive like that, gorgeous thing that he was.)

 

Steve flexed his fingers inside Tony and just smiled all sweet and remorseless as he groaned and squirmed helplessly against the touch, the fullness, the pleasure. “Buck always said you should eat a dame out if you want to leave a good impression,” he said, all flushed in the face and grinning, and Tony groaned, breathless, not sure if he wanted to just grab Steve’s face in both hands and kiss him or grind down against his fingers. He didn’t do either, because he felt helpless, somehow, not like he couldn’t, but like he wasn’t going to move, just spread out and taken apart in front of Steve, and knew his face was burning hot red.

 

“D-definitely leaving a—a good impression here,” he managed, and damn, his voice came out all low and scratchy, husky breath and not much else.

 

“Good,” Steve said, and leaned forward, left a gentle kiss over Tony’s belly, against the fabric of the dress. “See, aren’t you more relaxed now?” he said a moment later, and spread his fingers slightly, tugging at Tony’s rim, as if to prove it.

 

Tony felt himself give, felt the stretch as he opened up, felt a wave of heat wash up over his neck and face into his head even as he groaned and shook around Steve’s fingers. “I—I guess I am,” he mumbled. He pet his hand through Steve’s hair again, and Steve kissed him again, laid his cheek against his belly just for a moment, then pulled back, even as he stroked his fingers inside Tony again.

 

“Loosening up all nice now,” Steve said, and Tony felt so warm in the face, even as Steve spread his fingers, spread him out again. “That’s it,” he said, and reached for the lube, squirted some more into his hand and used his thumb to help push it up toward his fingers, curled them back and started spreading it around inside of Tony. He sank his fingers deep inside him, then, and Tony choked, groaned, pressed his hot cheek against the leather of the sofa, at the blunt insistent pressure even further inside him, not quite an ache but damn close. “Sorry,” Steve said, “wanna open you up inside too. You’re so sweet and tight, and deep inside there you sometimes stay all clenched up tight, baby.”

 

“I—I know,” Tony said, and it came out a shaky whisper.

 

“You’re going to be tight no matter what I do,” Steve said cheerfully, fond, “you always are. But I sure don’t want to hurt you.” His fingers flexed inside Tony again, working against his inner walls deep inside, stretching against him. “Don’t even know what it’d take to get you open and easy for it. A helluva lot of prep, anyway.”

 

Hours, at least, Tony thought, with a little self-conscious groan. Steve was absolutely right, and Steve, well, his dick was _long_ as well as thick, that was the thing that really made him hard to take.

 

“I’d like to take a whole day,” Steve said, his voice going a little lower, husky and rough, almost confiding. “But hell, we just don’t have that kind of time.”

 

Tony’s breath caught, stopped in his throat at the thought of Steve taking that long with him, like that, a whole day just to work him open—maybe he’d have Tony wear a plug, work him open in the morning and put it in, leave Tony aching and hard without taking the edge off, and Tony could suck him off, of course, both of them ignoring Tony’s aching erection and how it waxed and waned on and off through the day, except times when Steve would tease him, cup him in his hand or tease him with his fingers, before leaving him again, all the harder and throbbing for it, or press the flat of his hand against the plug and rock it in, until finally he’d lay Tony down, sometime late in the afternoon, maybe, with a few pillows under his hips because they’d be there for a while, start by playing with the plug before he changed it out for his fingers, working them into him and Tony open like he was now, and then more open, and more, until Tony was loose and soft and slick and easy, easy for Steve to slide right into him and not even have to take a second, so he could fuck right in the way he never could, and take Tony fast and hard, right to the root, and then maybe Tony could come, if he could manage to come on Steve’s cock, like—like a good boy, like they were going to teach him how to, how to manage it, train him, sensitize his prostate, get him focused on that pleasure, from there, deep in his body, in his ass, so then when Steve pushed into him he was already so focused on it, the stretch and fullness and that sweet, insistent itch—

 

“Tony, God, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Steve whispered, voice so hushed and thick. “I didn’t think—but you’d _love_ that, you’ve got that, that look on your face, like, like you’re planning it out—”

 

Tony sucked in a breath, tried to focus, to think about something else, feeling his cock jerking in his own gloved hand. “I—I would,” he admitted with a rough, self-conscious little laugh. “Maybe, maybe sometime, if I took a day, worked from home, and obviously call it off if there was—was action, of course—I’ve got some—thoughts, yeah, I’d like some—a few things—”

 

Steve kissed him, eager and wet, warm heat against his lips. Tony could taste himself on him, sex-musk and pre-come, and it just made even hotter, made him groan and grab tight at the back of Steve’s neck to pull him close, lean up into him for the kiss. When Steve pulled away he smoothed his hand down the side of Tony’s jaw, his neck, palmed at the nape of his neck, panting against his lips. “Okay,” he said, “okay, then, we’ll, we’ll figure it out sometime, if you think it would work.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony breathed. “I—I think we could make it happen.” He took a deep breath, still feeling dizzy. “Now I think it’s about time you got inside me, tiger.”

 

Steve groaned, rubbed his nose in against Tony’s cheek, his lips wet against the skin. “I’d like to,” he said, all low in his chest and husky, “if you’re really ready?”

 

His fingers felt so deep inside Tony, but he knew his cock would go in even deeper, fill him up so damn full, and yeah, he was starting to ache for it. “More than,” he breathed, trying to fill it with his sincerity as he caught Steve’s eyes with his, because yeah, sure, maybe he’d tried to rush earlier, and he did try to rush him, sometimes, but now, now he really meant it, he really was ready, more than ready, the anticipation coiling in his stomach, bubbling up inside his chest, needy and raw.

 

Steve grinned, rubbed his thumb along Tony’s jaw, along his cheek, blunt and a little rough and so fond, so affectionate, it made Tony’s breath catch a little in his throat. “Okay,” he said, his voice so eager and husky. “If you’re sure.”

 

“Goddamnit, honey,” Tony groaned. “So damn ready.”

 

Steve gave a little laugh, but his eyes were lit up, keen and eager, and he licked his bottom lip. “Okay, then, you got it,” he said, and brushed another quick kiss over Tony’s lips, before he sat back on his heels, pulled his fingers out of Tony, then pushed himself to his feet. He almost stumbled a little, which was kind of fucking incredible to see from Steve, and Tony could see how desperately hard his cock was, how soaked the front of his little shorts had gotten and had to bite his own lip, swallow hard. He felt strangely detached, far away from his body, as he pulled his skirt back down and stood up. He wondered how stretched he was—his hole seemed to tingle between his legs, and he was hyper-aware of the air on the slick wetness of the lube inside him, around his rim, Steve’s saliva still drying on his dick. It was strange to feel the skirt around his thighs, to be so conscious of the way his erection was tenting it, and he found himself shivering, straightening the skirt out and rubbing his palms on his hips, trying to catch his breath.

 

“Okay, big guy,” he muttered, and leaned forward, wrapped his hand around the back of Steve’s neck, rocked up on his toes, and kissed him. Steve’s lips parted instantly beneath the kiss, and Tony followed after his breath with his tongue, trying to really make this one count as their breaths mixed and mingled, warm and damp between them, and Steve groaned, his mouth giving way for the kiss, leaned into it with his own hand coming up to tangle in Tony’s hair.

 

They kept kissing for long moments, not wanting to pull away, or at least Tony didn’t, and it seemed like Steve felt the same way, even as Steve’s hands dropped to Tony’s hips and started to rub there and squeeze, gripping him through the skirt, digging in and then smoothing back down, almost kneading at his thigh muscles as he panted into Tony’s mouth and they traded slow, sweet breaths, dizzying kisses. Tony felt breathless in response, wasn’t sure if he groaned, too, or not. Eventually Steve pushed him back a little, and he let himself step, walk backwards, until he found himself against the arm of the sofa, put his free hand back to catch himself, steady himself, on the arm, still trading kisses with Steve, his hand skimming up and down over the short hairs at the nape of his neck, feeling how warm his skin was there, even through the gloves, twisting into it and smoothing out in what he realized was an unconscious imitation of how Steve was kneading at his hips. He slid his hand up into Steve’s hair and gripped, held on, just for a moment, pulling away just long enough to gasp out, “Here? Like this? This where you want me, sport?”

 

“Yes,” Steve gasped against his mouth, licked, lipped against his bottom lip, sucked on it, managed to look up at Tony in a way that was all the more unfairly coquettishly seductive for being obviously entire genuine and unintentional. “Can I? Is this—is this good?”

 

The only problem with standing was that Tony’s legs had this stupid, annoying tendency to go weak when Steve was fucking him, but he figured he could brace himself on the sofa, and Steve could take the rest of his weight, if that happened. “Sure,” he said, still feeling pretty breathless. “’Course.”

 

Steve’s hands slid down, ducked under the fabric of his skirt, and Tony felt himself shiver under them, couldn’t resist tugging Steve’s head back down for another kiss, and even as Steve helped him get turned around, he groaned again, far back in his throat, and leaned eagerly into it, and his mouth was soft, open, for Tony’s mouth on his. Tony couldn’t help it, couldn’t deny that sweet welcome and offer, found himself pressing deeper into his mouth, licking deeply between Steve’s lips, kissing him deep and warm and open-mouthed. Steve leaned into him, and Tony twisted around to get a better angle, a better grip, pulling him closer, sliding his mouth hot along his, until he could feel Steve’s practically bare chest heaving, furiously hot and flushed where it pressed against Tony’s side. Tony pulled him even closer, could feel it through his whole body, intimately, as Steve groaned and shuddered, bucked his hips helplessly and rubbed his hard cock against Tony’s thigh, along his skirt, his hands gripping warm at Tony’s thighs. One arm came up and wrapped around Tony’s waist, holding him close as Steve pressed even closer, as if he just wanted to melt into Tony somehow, pressing himself all along him, tilting his head back into the kiss. Tony found himself stroking his fingers through Steve’s tousled hair, practically petting him along the curve of his skull.

 

It was incredibly difficult to pull away from the kiss, somehow—Tony found himself just going back in for more, skimming his lips along Steve’s damp, swollen ones, or pressing back into the heat of his mouth, as Steve’s hand rubbed along his thigh, and Steve gasped and panted and made tiny, needy noises, sometimes, in the back of his throat. Finally Tony curled his fingers in against the short hair at the back of Steve’s neck and dragged his mouth away, feeling very hot in the face, his lips tingling and wet. “Okay,” he said, and still couldn’t resist another taste of Steve’s mouth, a kiss against the corner of his lips. He groaned himself as Steve nuzzled in again, opened his mouth hot against Tony’s, swiped his tongue along his lower lip, and returned the kiss, rubbing the tips of his fingers against the back of Steve’s neck, before he pulled away again. “Babe,” he said, very conscious of the way Steve was rubbing himself against his thigh, the desperate heat of him against his leg, the way Steve groaned, his eyes glazed and lashes fluttering, as Tony pulled back from him, and the word came out hot and breathless, damp with breath, against the slick heat of Steve’s lips. “Babe, fuck me, right?”

 

Steve’s hand slid up along Tony’s thigh, warm, dragging with the glove, and he panted against his cheek. “Yeah,” he said, all tight and breathless. “Yeah.”

 

“That’s right,” Tony said, smiling a little, he couldn’t help it, even as he reached down, laced his fingers with Steve’s, dragged them up to clasp Steve’s hand over his hip, rocked his hips back against Steve’s cock in a slow, grinding parody of fucking that had Steve gasping, his head throwing back. “You can do this,” he said, “c’mon, give it to me good, tiger.” He turned around all the way, braced both his hands on the arm of the sofa. He shook his ass slightly, teasing Steve, knowing it set the skirt shifting around him, looked back over his shoulder at him and bit his lip. “I know you want to.”

 

“Do I ever,” Steve said, with a little breathless laugh, and then he was there, behind him, pressed against Tony’s back, all solid weight, lips hot and wet at the back of Tony’s neck. He was still panting, even as he gripped at Tony’s hip, around his waist, and the hard hot thickness of his cock, covered with the satiny fabric of those shorts so that it slipped and slid easily, slid over Tony’s crease through the skirt, making him extra aware of the still open prickle of his hole, the throbbing openness and want deep inside him. Tony groaned, let his head drop down as he tried to catch his breath and let Steve get himself up for it. Steve panted against the back of his neck for a bit, his breath so hot, his mouth damp against Tony’s skin, rubbing his dick back and forth a bit more, enough that it started to be enough of a tease to have Tony’s hips jerking and rolling despite himself, before he gasped and stilled himself. His hands moved down, slid under Tony’s skirt, then dragged back up, and he flipped it up, over the back of his thighs and his ass.

 

Tony sucked in his breath, tried to stay relaxed—Steve’s hand, stroking his thigh, rubbing gently over the trembling muscle, helped with that. There was another few seconds, then Steve let out his breath in a low, heavy groan, his face pressed against the back of Tony’s neck. A few more seconds, Tony heard the snick of the cap of the lube, and then Steve was thumbing over his hole, rubbing that slick, cold lube over it, and then another second and that slick, God, so slick, Steve was _dripping_ wet, heat and pressure was there, heavy and blunt against his still-sensitive hole. The size of him always hit Tony with a sudden shock of surprise, and suddenly he didn’t feel quite so loose and open, but Steve kissed his neck, the top vertebrae of his spine, rubbed his thumb over Tony’s hip, and he blew out his breath, let his teeth sink into his bottom lip, and then Steve was pressing inside him.

 

There was a—well, there was a press, an almost overwhelming sense of _pressure_ , that was for sure, that sudden very real recognition of the size of him, so that Tony couldn’t do anything except duck his head down and tremble for a moment, couldn’t think anything except, _fuck, so big, he’s so big_ , and, _Steve_ , and struggle to take him. His fingers dug into the arm of the sofa as he tried to relax, and Steve’s girth just seemed to keep on going, even as Tony felt as if he stretched and stretched for him—and then he was inside, all blunt heat and the trembling stretch of Tony’s aching hole where it spread to take him. The pressure didn’t ease up so much as diffuse—now Tony could feel it further inside, felt it more in the stretched ache of his hole where it was spread to accommodate Steve’s width, and he rocked a little on his toes, couldn’t help it, an instinctive response to the hot, not unpleasant ache that left him feel somehow full and spread too wide, yet empty, hollow and aching at the same time.

 

Steve groaned, low in his throat, and his hand flexed on Tony’s hip. He left another kiss against the top of Tony’s spine, buried his nose in his hair and panted. Tony shivered, blew out his breath, tried to relax, to concentrate on something other than how his body was working and trembling around Steve’s size, maybe something like the heat of him, his warmth at his back—

 

“Easy,” Steve mumbled into his hair, “easy. You can take it, just relax, Tony, baby, just breathe.”

 

Tony took another breath, blew it out, even as Steve rubbed his hand over the front of his thigh and sent a pleasant shiver traveling through him at the touch. “Sorry,” he gasped, “I guess I must be pretty tense, I—just—”

 

“’S fine,” Steve whispered, almost groaned, against the back of his neck. He kissed him again, lips soft, lingering and moist against Tony’s skin. His hand traveled up, thumb trailing in gentle passes over the very top of Tony’s hip. “Just don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“Not hurting me,” Tony managed to gasp out. “Not—not hurting me at all, honey. It’s just . . . a lot.”

 

Steve gave a little huff of breath against the back of his neck, damp and warm, sounding rueful. “I know,” he said, voice wobbling and strained tight. “Sorry about that.”

 

“Not a problem,” Tony murmured, “just—takes a second—” he willed himself to relax, spread his legs apart a bit more, rocked his hips forward just the tiniest bit, then back, felt his body start to unclench and Steve push a bit further into him. “There,” he got out. The pressure was still a little—much—but it wasn’t at all bad anymore. He was pretty sure that in a few seconds he’d be able to really take it. His body just—it took a few seconds. Like he’d said. Steve panted against the back of his neck, and that was really the thing; he always felt a little bad for making Steve wait so long. But he knew rushing it wasn’t really going to help, so he braced his hands wider apart on the arm of the sofa and tried to just breathe, still letting his head hang down.

 

He was so focused on breathing in and out, on relaxing, that he almost didn’t notice when Steve slid deeper into him until he suddenly felt the stretch much deeper inside, and that same blunt pleasure and heat grazing along his prostate, sending an arc of pleasure through him straight to his cock. He’d almost lost track of it, and his erection, along with everything else, but he was suddenly very aware of how it twitched and hardened under the skirt, the fabric a teasing whisper over the sensitive skin. He thought he might have made an embarrassing little whimpering noise, even as he bit at his bottom lip, rocked on his feet a little more. Steve’s other hand settled onto his waist, solid, steadying, and somehow that made it easier to catch his breath. Steve’s hand was so big, spanning the width of the belt, Tony’s waist, and he suddenly felt much, well, smaller, with the heated width of Steve’s dick spreading him wide and Steve’s hand there against him, holding him, Steve’s heat burning warm and present all along his body from his shoulders to his thighs. He still felt that maybe he should—well, maybe not like the feeling, or as much as he did, but, well, it was Steve. It felt good.

 

He just hoped Steve was feeling good, too. That was the thing, and—

 

Steve pulled out of him a bit, just a fraction, then pressed back inside, and that slid the big solid weight of him over that sweet spot again. Tony saw stars, heard himself groan. Steve was so big, and it was starting to feel good, on top of too much. Tony really did kind of like that stretched-too-far, can-barely-take-it feeling, it was just—it was easier when it had a little something else along with it, and that, _that_ was good. He groaned again as Steve repeated the motion, going deeper inside this time, pushing the pleasure even further with the thick, heavy pressure of him. Tony barely caught his breath before Steve was withdrawing to push back inside him again. Steve pushed deeper inside this time, still further, and this time he groaned, mashing his face against the back of Tony’s neck, his thumb digging hard into Tony’s hip. In the parts of Tony’s brain that were still functioning properly, he was amazed that Steve had held out as much as he had, and for this long. That was kind of incredible. Steve’s grip tightened as he slid back out of Tony again, almost to pulling out, and rocked back in.

 

It was going a lot easier now, and that slick slide, the depth of it, took Tony’s breath away, but not in a way that hurt, no, now it was a way, that way, that was really good. He felt like he was aware of every bare centimeter Steve had inside him, but it was good, a—a really good feeling, and it wasn’t just every stroke that brushed over his prostate and had him reeling and squirming in his hips, but all of it, the heat and pressure and the deep, insistent fullness. Steve’s breath was wet and heavy against the back of his neck as he kept moving, rubbing his cheek against Tony’s hair as he groaned again, his strokes speeding up a little, since Tony was open enough to take it, and he was; it wasn’t burning in that way it had when he was right there on the edge at all now, just felt almost unbearably full.

 

It wasn’t the insistent, intense, immediate pleasure of Steve’s hand or mouth on him, or even his hands on himself; it was . . . different, the fullness its own kind of slow, quiet burn, an ache of pleasure and want and need. Tony tended to sort of . . . lose track of time, when Steve was fucking him, like it slowed things down, or speeded them up, he didn’t know. He just got lost in it. Maybe because he was caught up in Steve’s rhythm rather than his own, or in letting his mind keep time. Steve was damn good at it, too—he always seemed to know when Tony wanted it faster, or harder, or slower, or needed a little gentler, before Tony himself did. It made it easy to just kind of let go, Tony figured, let himself drift on it a little—some of his other partners he’d’ve been trying to keep one eye on them, just in case they got a little too caught up, you know, tried to push it a little—but he could trust Steve, he knew that. Just could, somehow. He was already catching himself with his hand on Tony’s hip, easing his grip, rubbing his palm gently over that spot as if to soothe where his thumb had been digging in, even as he dragged his lips over the back of Tony’s neck, kissed up along his neck to his ear, still panting, though his lips were soft, dragging and gentle, dragged his cheek slow along Tony’s neck and kissed down the path of his spine. Tony shivered under the caresses, felt his skin warming again and couldn’t seem to do anything about it, like the heat of Steve’s lips spread all the way through him at each kiss, rose up into his face and down toward his toes.

 

“God, Tony,” Steve mumbled. “You’re so gorgeous. You feel so good. So good, Tony.”

 

And of course that just had Tony feeling even warmer. He wasn’t sure how Steve did it, but he just got to him, every compliment landing heavy and warm in his belly, knocking around in the back of his head and in his chest until he couldn’t help feeling warm with it. “Th-thanks, big guy,” he managed to stammer out.

 

Steve rocked back and forth, slid a little deeper into him, and kissed just under his ear again, along the back of his neck. “Love you,” he muttered. “God, you feel so good.”

 

Tony could really feel his cheeks heating now, at the same time heat shot through him from the slick slide and weight of Steve deep inside him, the way Steve’s cock slid over his prostate and sent pleasure shooting through him. He wasn’t even sure if he himself was close; he could feel his hard cock rubbing against the skirt, but he seemed oddly far away from it, from the pleasure pooling in his groin, somehow Steve’s cock in his ass felt far more immediate than any of that, Steve’s lips and damp heavy breaths against his skin so much more vivid and real. He felt really, really warm in the face, as if Steve’s words had washed through him in a slow roll of hot—not embarrassment, but warmth, crawling up the back of his neck and into his cheeks in hot prickles and settling heavy and solid in his belly. It was just—when Steve said things like that, and in the heat of the moment, too, like he wasn’t even thinking about it, like it was just—right there for him, so easy, so—Tony swallowed. “Steve,” he said, and he heard how his voice shook as he said it.

 

“Tony,” Steve groaned against the back of his neck. He pulled out, almost slammed back in, harder than he had before, Tony felt it all through his body, and he was trembling now, noticeably, more violently than he had before. “Sorry, sorry, I’m not going to last,” he panted. “I was trying—wanted to hold out longer for you, but I—I—”

 

Tony groaned at that strong, deep thrust, pleasure flashing through him as the thick weight and pressure of Steve pushed deep inside him, caught his breath as his own fingers dug deep into the arm of the sofa, before he could think how to respond. “That’s just fine, baby,” he finally managed to gasp out. “Go to town.” Hell, it was a miracle Steve had lasted this long. “You—you can do something special for me afterwards.”

 

“’Kay,” Steve said, and God, he was breathless, he could barely get the words out. “Sounds good.”

 

“Good, peaches, you just—you just go on,” Tony panted. He tried to squeeze himself inside in time with Steve’s thrusts, to give him a better ride, and wasn’t sure how well he did. “Don’t worry about holding back,” he added, just to make his point extra clear. “I’m open, I’m way open, you can just—you can just go.”

 

“You’re so good, Tony,” Steve whispered, practically mouthed without any breath, against the back of his neck. “So good to me.” He drew his hips back, slow, slid back into Tony with just a little more force behind it.

 

Tony figured Steve was way too impressed with too little when it came from him, like always, but there was nothing he could do about that that he hadn’t already tried, and—and he couldn’t deny that the praise felt good. He tried to concentrate on clenching up around Steve’s dick again, tried to move with him a little, arching his back and rolling his hips. He seriously doubted he was close enough to come before Steve did, but that was all right—it still felt really good. He braced himself and concentrated on enjoying the feeling, the fullness and pressure and shivering little bursts of pleasure, as Steve sped up, gripped his hips more tightly and pressed his face into the back of Tony’s neck as he fucked into him faster, more firmly than before, a little more rough, never enough to hurt, but enough for Tony to really feel it. Steve was panting, groaning a little, making those soft little grunts and gasps and noises of pleasure that Tony loved wringing out of him so much. His hand tightened on Tony’s hip, digging in, deeper than it had earlier, but that was no problem—Tony kind of liked it when Steve held onto him hard enough to bruise, even though it was rare, with Steve always so careful. It was never _too_ rough, but—well, Tony liked seeing the marks after, kinda. It made him remember it, made him feel—well, good, warm and a little squirmy inside. Like he was _Steve’s_ , maybe. Sorta.

 

He was hardly aware of anything except the pace of Steve fucking him, the slowly speeding in and out motion, Steve’s hand on his hip, his other arm clutching Tony to his chest, the way he could feel Steve’s heart pounding against his back, his breath ragged and uneven against the back of Tony’s neck, the flutter of the skirt against his thighs whenever Steve thrust particularly hard. He could feel how close Steve was in his shuddering breaths against the back of his neck, the way he was clutching at Tony and his rhythm was quickly stuttering out of control.

 

Steve was really pounding in against him now, and each stroke was even more pressure on his prostate, with the speed Steve was rocking into him it was like a constant massage, rough and forceful and ever present, and Tony’s knees trembled under him; he realized he was groaning and panting, mouth open and wet and unable to get a breath. He moaned as he rocked himself on Steve, clenching down and working himself around Steve’s cock partly for his own pleasure as well as Steve’s now, tightening up, getting more of that aching fullness, that pressure right where he wanted it.

 

It felt so damn good that by the time Steve’s hips jerked against his ass and he came with a choking, gasping groan, Tony almost thought he was going to come, too, for a second, the pleasure cresting high and insistent as Steve’s cock pulsed, insistently rubbing and sliding along his prostate as Steve groaned and rode out his orgasm. The pleasure crested, made him make a sound despite himself, buck his hips and writhe, but it retreated just out of sight before he could tip over the edge, and Tony groaned as it slipped away from him. But that was all right, Tony figured, Steve would take care of him, after; he was always so good about that. Once Steve had his head back together from his own orgasm, anyway—he tended to come and come, and it made Tony feel even warmer, somehow, imagining he could feel it, Steve creaming him inside, knowing he’d made him feel that good, too, the way Steve was gasping and panting and clutching at him, his cheek pressed to the back of Tony’s neck as he groaned, feathering wet kisses over the skin under his ear and along his hairline. “Tony,” he gasped, practically whimpered, his voice all soft and breaking, breathy and husky rough with pleasure and God, if that wasn’t one hell of a turn-on. “Tony, God. God.”

 

“Hey, there, big guy,” Tony managed, a little unsteadily. His knees still felt weak, God. He reached one hand up, rubbed it over Steve’s. Damn, Steve still felt so good inside of him, moving his hips in little short, abortive, stuttery little thrusts as he chased the last of his orgasm and sending shivery bursts of pleasure through Tony’s body as he did. “You still—” he had to gasp, catch his breath “—still with me back there?”

 

Steve gave a moaning, breathless little gasp of a laugh. “’m not sure if I’m here,” he said, “t’be honest, I feel so good, Tony, you’re so good, you always make me feel so good.” He squeezed his hand against Tony’s thigh, turned it and then intertwined their fingers and squeezed those, too, and Tony felt heat suddenly flush up into his face, felt a warm twist in his chest and belly.

 

“Sweetheart,” he said, then bit his lip, swallowed a low, uncomfortable chuckle. “Just doing my part,” he said. Hell, Stark, awkward, much? But he couldn't help it. It was just—Steve could get so, so sweet, after an orgasm, or two, or whatever, and Tony just—it got to him, hit him straight in the chest, behind the arc reactor, made him feel warm and trembly and a little bit scared and shaking, because it—it was too good, too much, too sweet and soft and warm and wonderful to trust. It made him just want to be good to Steve in return, to offer him more and more, to make him feel this good all the time—and he wasn’t sure how to do that. Wasn’t sure he wasn’t going to mess it up, wasn’t sure he knew how to do anything but fail at it. But—but well, he tried, and this wasn’t the time for that anyway, really wasn’t. He took Steve’s hand in his, tugged it up to his lips and pressed a kiss against the knuckles, awkward and warm all over and a little fumbling, he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. “So,” he said, suddenly feeling oddly shy, maybe it had something to do with the skirt, hell, he didn’t know, “you liked it, huh?”

 

Steve swore under his breath, which made Tony grin. “Hell,” he said then, and wow, that was two curse words in a row, “you’re asking me? Goddamn, Tony.”

 

Tony felt himself grinning a little. Three curse words. Well, that was a satisfying reaction. Right? “I—I just want to make sure I’m showing my fella a good time,” he said. “Don’t wanna put out for nothing, right?”

 

Steve gave a trembling little chuckle against the back of Tony’s neck, higher than normal and tight, breathless. “God, Tony,” he said. “Hell, yes, it was a good time.” His voice dropped, got low, husky and thick. “It was so good,” he said, “thank you.”

 

Tony grinned a little more. His face still felt warm. “You’re welcome, tiger,” he said, and then Steve was pulling out of him, there was a moderately blunt, aching pressure as he shifted, and Tony’s hole suddenly seemed to remember what a big, hard length had been stretching it wide, aching around him, and then Steve was sliding out of him, and Tony seized his chance to turn around, settle his hands on Steve’s sides and skim them up over his bare, shaking sides, flushed so brilliantly red now and shining with sweat, lean in and steal a kiss, pressed their lips together gentle and slow. Steve groaned, made a softer noise and leaned into it, his hands curling around Tony’s hips, under his skirt, pulling him in close. It was Tony’s turn to groan and try not to whimper as his painfully erect cock pressed up against the hard muscle of Steve’s thigh and the curve of his hip. He muffled the noise against Steve’s lips, opened his mouth and leaned into the kiss, skimming his hands up over Steve’s chest, making him shiver as he grazed his nipples, to frame them against the sides of Steve’s neck, pet his gloved fingers back into his hair. Steve let out a sigh and leaned into, into him and the kiss, hands skipping up to curl around Tony’s waist, press against the small of his back. Tony slid one hand up into his hair, cradling the back of his head, stroking fingers through the short strands, and let the other move up to cup his face, curve against the strong line of his jaw. The way Steve sighed and practically melted into him was a hell of a feeling.

 

Steve’s hands slid up along his back, stroking so gently that Tony couldn’t help but shiver. They moved up to his shoulders and rubbed there for a moment before moving back down as Steve made another low, deep, softly satisfied noise and pulled away. His eyes were starry, his lips wet and swollen, high color in his cheeks and his hair tousled, and when he grinned, Tony forgot how to think for a second. “Now it’s my turn to take care of my baby,” he said. “Since I was a selfish bastard and didn’t make you come first.”

 

Tony thought he might have flushed. Again. Jesus. “That’s okay,” he muttered, dropping his eyes and shifting on the balls of his feet, “I’d’ve been too sensitive for that anyway if you had.”

 

“I know,” Steve said, brushing a gentle kiss along his jaw, then kissing his cheek. He dropped his hands to Tony’s thighs, smoothed his hands gently up and down them. “So how do you want it, beautiful?” He skimmed up the back of Tony’s legs, made him shiver, palmed gently over his ass, and Tony bit his lip, suddenly vividly aware of the tingling ache of his hole, the wet awareness of Steve’s come inside him. There was a little bit of it trickling along his crease, down along his thigh, along his balls. “Should I suck you?” Steve murmured, and of course the color heightened on his cheeks at that, at saying it out loud. He was just the most adorable; Tony couldn’t help it, it was true.

 

“Sounds good,” he told him. “If, uh, if you want to.”

 

“I’d love to,” Steve told him, all sweet sincerity, in that way he had, the way that always made Tony catch his breath, that he almost could quite believe. He pushed Tony back, until his hips were back against the arm of the sofa, then hiked up his own shorts, back over his cock, and dropped easily to his knees in front of him. Tony bit his lip. He just looked so—like that—

 

Steve smiled up at him, skimmed his hands up over Tony’s thighs again, under the skirt. “I can see that someone’s pretty eager,” he said, nodding at the way Tony’s dick was tenting his skirt, and Tony bit down harder on his lower lip, couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry, I made you wait a long time, huh?”

 

“Not too—” Tony tried, and his voice failed him, going scratchy and rough and breaking off. He swallowed and tried again. “Not too long,” he managed, soft and a little more breathless than he’d have liked, but oh well. It was out there now.

 

“You’ve been so patient,” Steve said, all fond appreciation in his voice, even as his hands played over the inside of Tony’s thighs, making him shudder, tip his head back and try to breathe, try to catch his breath. “So good for me, baby doll.”

 

Tony bit his lip again. He didn’t want to rush him, but when Steve said things like that—he just—he knew his cock was jerking beneath his skirt, hard and throbbing. The underside of his skirt felt damp.

 

“I know how bad you must want it,” Steve said, “and I know it’s not nice to keep your girl waiting, but let’s see how wet you are for me, huh?”

 

Tony’s breath left him in a gasp, then a moan as Steve slid his hand back between his legs, rubbed his knuckles along his perineum, and then pushed his fingers back into his hole.

 

“Pretty damn wet,” Steve said, and winked at him.

 

Tony groaned. He _felt_ goddamn wet, his cock leaking a little precome and all the lube and come Steve had left in him coating Steve’s prodding fingers as they pushed deeper into his slick, sensitive entrance. He could feel himself shivering, leaking that combined come and slick onto Steve’s fingers, but Steve didn't seem to mind, praising him for it softly, saying, “good, good, that’s so good, Tony, that feels so good,” even as he rubbed his fingers back and forth, down along Tony’s rim and out of his hole onto his perineum then right back in, a little like he might have along a woman’s folds, Tony thought, and couldn’t help the whimper this time, every pass down of Steve’s fingers drawing more wetness out of him. “That’s it,” Steve said, “so loose and wet for me, so good. You must really want it, huh? You’re so good, baby doll.”

 

Tony’s legs really felt weak now; he could feel himself trembling. His thighs felt damp and hot. “God, Steve,” he mumbled, and it came out wobbly, too.

 

“That’s it,” Steve said again, “I’ve got you.” He brought his hand up, slicked along Tony’s cock with it even as Tony made a noise of protest that brought Steve’s head up, his eyebrows raised in question.

 

“Ass,” Tony said, and gestured at Steve weakly. “Mouth. It’s—”

 

“Mmm,” Steve said. “I don’t mind.”

 

“Steve,” Tony said, but it was hard to keep his mind on it as Steve closed his hand around his aching dick and dragged up. His hand was just tight enough around him and Tony groaned, felt his hips arch up, his head drop back, as pleasure shot through him, following the path of Steve’s hand.

 

“Shh, it’s fine,” Steve said, and twisted his hand over the head of Tony’s cock, slid his hand back down to stroke his shaft again, the same way he had before. Tony heard himself moan even as his back arched despite himself, his hips rose to follow Steve’s hand. He was about to remind Steve that he’d said he would suck him, and that Tony wasn’t sure how long he would last if he kept this up, so if he wanted to—but then Steve pulled his hand off, ran it over the front of Tony’s skirt, making him shiver at the feeling of the fabric shifting over him, and took him in hand again through the fabric. Tony gasped, groaned, felt himself buck up into it, strange through the thick starchy fabric of the skirt. Steve leaned in, pressed his lips against the side of Tony’s hip, then against the dip of it, sliding his other arm around him and resting it on Tony’s ass, warm and steadying, making Tony feel almost small again, the way Steve encircled him so easily. He looked back up at Tony, bit his bottom lip. “Sorry,” Steve said, “I know I’m going slow, but—but you just—I can’t ever get enough of looking at you, ever, but—like this—I just—Tony, just, I, wow—” He swallowed. His face was very red, still, but flushing redder, down into his chest. “You look so amazing like this,” he practically whispered. “Sorry, I know I’m drawing it out.”

 

Tony wondered if his own face was just as red. “Hey, that’s fine,” he said, and it came out almost a whisper. “It’s—I mean, you don’t have to—you know.”

 

Steve smiled at that. “What,” he murmured, pressed another soft kiss over Tony’s belly, another up against his ribs, just under the plunging neckline of the dress, “flatter you?” He pushed up, cupping Tony’s cock in his hand, squeezing through the fabric, and Tony groaned, his hips jerking helplessly forward into Steve’s grip. “But it’s not flattery,” he said. “It’s true; you look so—so beautiful, and you got all dressed up like this, just for me—” He sucked on his bottom lip. “I guess I kind of get the attraction when I see you in it,” he said, rueful and soft. “Kind of associated it with being a circus animal before, but . . .” he swallowed. “Wow.”

 

“C’mon, hon,” Tony said with an awkward little laugh, bracing his hands on the sofa, trying not to arch up too obviously, too embarrassingly needily into Steve’s touch. “I just thought you’d get, I don’t know, a kick out of it? And you sure seem to like it. So . . . uh, so.” He shrugged, not quite sure how to finish, what he was really saying. So it had been good? So Steve didn’t have to keep being so—so—generous? Steve had liked it, and that was all Tony had really wanted out of the thing.

 

Steve’s smile turned a little shy. “I’d say that’s the least I got out of it,” he said, a little embarrassed sounding, and ducked his head, pressing his face in against Tony’s middle, taking a deep breath. He pushed up with his hand again, rolling it against Tony’s cock through the fabric of his skirt, and Tony groaned, felt his head tip back again.

 

“H-honey,” he managed to get out, “if you—if you wanted to suck me off—that, that’s not going to—can’t do that for much longer, I don’t think.” He knew he was panting, could feel his chest heaving, as Steve rolled his palm again and pleasure shot through him, a bolt of pure sensation through his cock.

 

“Mmm,” Steve said, “right,” and then he was hiking Tony’s skirt up, revealing his damp cock to the cool air, and holding the fabric of the skirt against Tony’s broad belt with one hand as he ducked his head down further and took him into his mouth.

 

The immediate soft, wet heat sent pleasure blazing hot and bright and intense through Tony, a bright flare in his cock and his groin, and he bit his lip, tried his best not to simply buck forward into Steve’s mouth for more of it, keeping himself still. Hell, it felt so good. He knew he cried out, a desperate gasping sound, probably embarrassingly breathless, his eyes squeezing shut.

 

Steve just sucked slightly, swirled his tongue around the head in a way that made Tony gasp and squirm his hips in a desperate attempt not to roll them forward. “Mmm,” Steve said, a pleased humming sound that sent pleasure shivering all the way through Tony’s body. He heard his own moans, quiet but still awfully rough and wanton, as if they were coming from a long way away. Steve squeezed his hard, callused hand around the base of Tony’s cock and took him in a little further, and the pleasure was so bright, so intense that Tony almost couldn’t believe how fast it was building; his eyes flew open and then shut again and he found himself sucking at his teeth, trying to keep his saliva in his mouth as he gasped and moaned and shook against the arm of the sofa.

 

And Steve, he, he really threw himself into it. He spent a few more moments mouthing around the head of Tony’s dick, stroking Tony gently with his hand, as if he wanted to work him up into it, sucking gently and making the kind of loud, wet slurping sounds that made him sound like he was sucking on the most obscene popsicle of all time, then he hollowed out his cheeks and bent his head and took Tony in deeper.

 

It was like being engulfed in red-hot, molten pleasure and then hammered into shape. Tony felt his knees go weak, and Steve quickly moved his other hand, still gripping his skirt, to steady him at his hip, even pulled back to suckle wetly at the head of Tony’s cock again before he moved back down, taking Tony in almost to the root, until he had to be dangerously close to the back of Steve’s throat and the point where he’d be sure to gag, though Tony could barely think about that, the pleasure so bright and intense he could barely breathe. He found himself clutching at the back of Steve’s neck again with one hand, his fingers stroking restlessly as he struggled to keep his hips still against their urge to thrust and buck into Steve’s welcoming mouth, struggled to go at Steve’s pace, not to choke him.

 

Steve slid back on him, worked his mouth over the head of Tony’s cock again, let the sensitive tip swipe along his wet, hotly open lips in a way that made Tony shake, then closed his lips and gave a long, soft suck, went down again. Tony just stopped being able to focus on anything else at that point, it felt so good, let his hips rock just a little bit, a slow, slight, steady roll that would give Steve plenty of time to adjust, and just curled his fingers into his hair and held on. Steve moved with it, too, with him, rocking his head in time with Tony’s movements, playing his tongue against Tony’s cockhead as he moved back in a way that never failed to make Tony’s knees feel even weaker. Tony was really wobbling against the sofa now, and was distantly aware of the moist feeling as his wet, bare asshole pushed down against the leather, how wet he still felt all down his crease, felt his face flush a little more all over again, the heat going straight to his head and making him dizzy. Steve’s hand just curved around his hip, still tangled in his skirt, holding him a little more firmly against the curve of his ass. Tony groaned because the grip Steve had on him, around his hip, around the base of his cock, just felt so real, so _steady_ , so all-encompassing, somehow, like Steve had him, _really_ had him, and Tony could just let go, could shake apart in his arms just like that and it would be all right, because Steve had him, his fingers firm against the swell of Tony’s ass and curled in snug and strong against the base of his cock.

 

Steve sucked on him in that moment, a long, deep pull of his mouth, and Tony came all at once, with a stuttering little cry he himself could barely hear and still on that thought, bending over Steve and gasping as his hips jerked and he spent himself in Steve’s mouth. He’d come so fast, he hadn’t even had time to warn Steve; it’d snuck up on him, and all he could do was clutch tight to Steve’s hair and neck and try to breathe as the pleasure crested and spiked through him on a white-hot wave. He wasn’t even sure how long it took; seconds, hours, a whole year, it could have been any of them, even though he knew it was nothing more than a few minutes, max. All he could think or feel was pleasure, the throbbing ecstasy arching through him, centered on his groin, and Steve, the warmth and presence and solid strength of him, the softness of his hair as he clung to it, to him, and shook, pressed kisses into it, over the top of Steve’s head. Steve’s hand was still moving on his cock, gentle and slow, barely there touches of that hard, callused palm, and it just prolonged the pleasure, made him feel even warmer, his head moving slower, like through sticky sweet swirling honey, twisting the pleasure up into an exquisite height of sensation that was almost pain but wasn’t.

 

Tony was gasping, trembling, he realized after long moments, and Steve was still holding him, touching him, and it still made him feel so warm, and half his dick was still in Steve’s warm, wet mouth, and Steve was sucking, soft and gentle, little soft passes of his tongue. Tony groaned, and thrust into that gentle hold, that soft heat, even as he softened, couldn’t help it, and Steve made a hmming, contented noise, let him slide back and forth into his mouth, along his tongue. It still felt good, so good, and it was hard to let it go; Tony felt his eyes slide closed again, time slide out long and slow all over again too.

 

Steve shifted, pulled off him in a long, slow suck that made Tony groan, gasping, and clutch at Steve’s head despite himself, then turned and his tongue slid up the side of Tony’s cock, slow and soft and warm. Tony felt his chest heaving, wasn’t sure if the sensation that sent shuddering through him was pleasure, too much too fast, or what, just that he didn’t want it to stop. Steve’s tongue was so slow and careful, almost delicate, and he could feel the warmth of Steve’s cheek pressed against the underside of his cock, as he leaned in. Steve didn’t stay too long in any one place, shifted Tony’s cock with his hand, tilting it up, to get the other side, and Tony almost whimpered, the sound that came out of him much higher-pitched than he had meant it to be. He couldn’t seem to care, though, he felt so good, his legs wobbly, almost liquid, and his head warm and floating, and despite himself his hand slid into Steve’s hair, cupped the back of his head, stroking back and forth, even as his head tipped back and he gasped for air.

 

Steve’s hands came up and curled against his bare ass in another second, gripped him tight around his hips, and it was only then that Tony realized how unsteady on his feet he was. Steve’s mouth encircled him in another second, warm wet heat, slid down on him all the way to the root, then pulled back off, and Tony raised his head just in time to see Steve lick his lips. They were red, puffy and used looking and wet, spit shiny and slick, and Steve was panting, even as Tony’s skirt fluttered back down over his dick. The sensation was still something else, shivery and intense on his oversensitized skin, and Tony squirmed, not sure if it was too much or just really, really good. “Steve,” he managed, and his voice came out hoarse, breathy and wobbly.

 

Steve grinned up at him, bright and blinding, his eyes so blue, shining and sparkling in his flushed, damp face, and his hair falling in a damp sweaty tangle over his forehead, and Tony would have sworn if not for the arc reactor that smile could stop his heart. “’S me,” he mumbled, hoarse and low himself, voice a little raspy, and leaned in, pressed another kiss just above Tony’s hip, over the skirt, let his face rest there, nuzzling his nose in against the dip of it. Tony let his other hand fall to the back of Steve’s head, held him close, moving his hand through his hair more consciously now. His hands felt very sweaty inside the gloves, and he was suddenly aware of how sweaty he felt all over, the hair sticking to the back of his neck and the wet sweat pooling at the small of his back, the warm stickiness of his thighs under the skirt.

 

“G-God,” he let out breathlessly, “I think you might have sucked my brains out through my dick, Rogers.”

 

“Hope not,” Steve mumbled. “Wouldn't want to be responsible for that kind of a loss to mankind.”

 

“Smartass,” Tony said fondly, even though his cheeks heated, stupidly, and he felt warmer at the implied compliment. Which was dumb. He’d have probably made the same joke himself in a few seconds.

 

But it was different when Steve did it. Than when Tony did it.

 

“Mmm,” Steve hummed in agreement, and nuzzled closer. His breath was bleeding through the thick material of the skirt, leaving a warm patch against Tony’s skin. It made him shiver, pleasantly, all down his back and into his legs so his toes curled. Just feeling Steve so close, the warm broad strength of him pressing against Tony’s legs and into his body.

 

“Well, you were amazing,” Tony finally managed. He rubbed his thumb down over the curve of Steve’s skull, through his hair. “It was—that was amazing.”

 

Steve hummed against his hip, shifted to press his face into Tony’s belly. Tony could see the side of his face, though, and could tell he was hot, flushed, blushing deep red. “I try,” he mumbled, “just tryin’ to keep up with you.”

 

Tony almost laughed, the idea that Steve would have any trouble with that, literally ever, was so ridiculous, but just ended up running his hand down over the back of Steve’s head, cupping his hand against the back of his neck, feeling like his chest was actually going to bust open or something with warmth and affection. “Yeah, not having any trouble with that, slugger,” he said. He still felt lightheaded, and just—just light, buoyant and warm. His body felt heavy, but also like nothing in him weighed much at all.

 

“Good,” Steve said, hoarse and low, breathy, almost to himself, and Tony squeezed the back of his neck, wasn’t sure how else to express that swell of affection.

 

Steve shifted in another moment, squeezed the back of Tony’s thighs, fingers pressing into the swell of his ass, then kneading, massaging, for a moment before he took a firm hold again. The movement made more wet drip from Tony’s still sensitive hole, come, or lube, or whatever, and he gasped, couldn’t help it, bit his lip and arched his head back at the sensation. Steve was picking him up in a another moment, in one easy movement that was utterly unfair, and tipping him back onto the sofa, putting him down with surprising control. Tony only just thought to lean up, wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders and tug him down into a kiss through the surprise, the disorientation of being moved.

 

Steve made a sweet eager, appreciative noise and leaned into it, his still-gloved hand coming up to cup the side of Tony’s face, slide back into his hair, and he knelt down between Tony’s legs, mouth soft and breathless against his lips, other hand coming up to rub up warm over Tony’s thigh. Tony shivered under it, very aware of his sweaty skin and the warm, sensitive tingle of his ass against the sofa, the wetness still between his cheeks. He opened his mouth, let his tongue linger soft over Steve’s sticky-slick bottom lip, a teasing knock at the door until Steve gave a needy gasp and let his lips part. Steve let him in easy, his hand coming up to settle and grip at Tony’s waist, and Tony ran a hand down over his shoulder, feeling the tight fitting sheen and flex of the fabric of his tiny top under his fingers, the warm flushed muscle of his back even through his glove, pulling him in closer with his other arm around his neck. Steve tasted like Tony’s own come, musk and salt and a little bitter, and was soft and panting against Tony’s tongue, moaned and tilted his head back, up toward Tony, against his hand at the back of his neck. Tony moaned, too, his head swimming warm and heady, and rubbed at his shoulder, his back, the back of his neck, as he deepened the kiss.

 

He lost track of time again. It was just so . . . good, to sit there, Steve’s broad warm body in his arms, pressing him back into the sofa, his mouth warm and wet and welcoming and soft against Tony’s as he made low, breathless sounds and leaned into the kiss, met Tony halfway, and his breath was warm against Tony’s lips and tongue. Tony was only half aware of his skirt pushed up high around his thighs, Steve’s bare, heaving sides against the sensitive insides of his knees and thighs, how strange it was to have bare legs but still feel clothed, but it added a little—a sort of something, maybe. Steve’s hand rubbed back and forth against Tony’s side, over his ribs through the fabric, and he still felt warm and floating, like the inside of his brain had gone all soft.

 

When they finally pulled away—Tony wasn’t sure which of them moved first—he was even more lightheaded and warm and breathless, and from the way Steve looked at him, eyes hazy and lips kiss-stung and parted, panting, he was in pretty much the same state. “Oh, wow,” Tony managed, and stroked his hand over the back of Steve’s neck again, even as he let his arms loosen so Steve could move back.

 

Steve didn’t move back, though, he moved forward, letting his head fall forward to rest against Tony’s shoulder, not moving his arms. “Could kiss you for a million years,” he sighed.

 

Tony went even warmer, something going soft inside his chest. “The feeling’s mutual, honeybunch,” he murmured. Steve felt hot all over, all trembling, heaving muscle in his arms. Tony instinctively brought his arms up, slid them in close, one hand against the back of Steve’s head, and he gave a long sigh, turned his head so that it fit under Tony’s chin, into the hollow of his neck.

 

“Sorry I didn’t warn you about the—well, coming in your mouth like that,” Tony thought to say, ruefully, after a moment. He’d meant to. It had just happened so fast.

 

“Mmm?” Steve said. He sounded dreamy. “Oh no, that’s—that’s just fine, I don’t mind, don’t mind at all.”

 

“It makes it easier to swallow,” Tony pointed out—and besides, it was just good manners—but he didn’t press it.

 

“I liked it,” Steve said, a low, soft murmur. “Really.”

 

Tony was pretty sure Steve was not a huge fan of the taste of come, but he didn’t seem to mind swallowing anyway, or the unexpected surprise, so he let it go, just pressed a kiss against Steve’s sweat-sheened temple. Steve had that gift of never getting gross when he was sweating, just seemed to gently glow out of his pores. It was so unfair. He was so ridiculously fucking beautiful, and right now he was melting into Tony, pushing him back into the sofa, and making him want to melt right along with him, under him. Tony sighed and let his eyes slip closed, ran a hand through Steve’s hair.

 

“I’m gonna wanna clean up eventually,” he mumbled at the ceiling, running his hand through Steve’s hair again.

 

“Eventually,” Steve said in a low voice Tony felt more through his chest than anything. “Let’s just. I—”

 

“Yeah,” Tony breathed. “Yeah. You should come on up here, though, champ.” Steve could hold an uncomfortable position for a stupidly long time, but there was no reason he should be making his knees ache.

 

Steve didn’t argue, just stumbled up, sank down on the sofa beside him, and then slid one arm around Tony’s shoulders, leaned into him again. His lips slid over Tony’s jaw, his throat, his chin, his lips, and Tony smiled, feeling drifty and slow as he kissed back, ran one hand up into Steve’s hair and helped guide his head down to rest against Tony’s other shoulder until Steve was resting against him chest to chest, weight on his hip against the sofa cushions. He was a big guy, and heavy, but not really resting on Tony entirely, just sort of—curled against him, and he felt incredibly warm, and solid, and Tony was melting again. He slid his hand up, through Steve’s hair, down over the side of his neck.

 

“That was so good,” Steve mumbled. “God, Tony, that was so good. Was it—was it as good for you?” He seemed to be trying to lift his head with a bit of an effort, but Tony pushed it back down, let his other hand drop to run over Steve’s bare chest, his side, rest against his hip. Steve still looked incredible, all flushed and tousled and—and, well, happy, sated, the red and gold of the outfit's shiny fabric an interesting contrast to how he was flushed practically all over.

 

“Yeah,” he admitted, on a low, quiet breath. “It was—it was better than good, apple pie.”

 

Steve smiled, pleased and soft and just . . . blissful, and leaned up to press a kiss against the underside of Tony’s jaw.


End file.
